The Devil's Due
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: Co-written by Silverkelpie and InsideOutlaw. Forced apart by circumstances beyond their control, Heyes and the Kid join up again as co-leaders of the Devil's Hole gang. They will become the most successful outlaws the West has ever seen, but first they have to learn that the past has a way of catching up with you.
1. Chapter 1

The long fingers drummed absent-mindedly on the polished table before reaching over and grasping the whiskey bottle. Amber liquid poured out in a ribbon of gold, swirling around the shot glass which was lifted to the pensive man's lips. To the casual observer he was killing time, possibly waiting for a friend, a poker game, or a hook-up with a diverting female; but a closer look would show a man sitting with his back strategically to the wall and dark eyes watching the saloon door out of his peripheral vision so as not to betray him examining every movement. He looked relaxed and happy, like any other cowboy enjoying a hard-earned break from the harshness of life, but in reality he was a man ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of ambush.

Hannibal Heyes sipped carefully at the glass; today was not a day to addle the senses, he'd need his wits about him to deal with one of the best gunmen the West had ever seen. They would meet again after all these years. Would they recognize one another? If he did, would the Kid be pleased to see him again after everything that had happened?

The moment the long leg appeared through the bat-wing doors he knew it was him. He knew that gait; not so much a swagger of confidence, more the carriage of a man who knew he could deal with almost anything. Almost. Heyes' throat tightened; he knew the baggage Kid Curry carried and understood the bluff. Those moments alone were the hardest times, when you have nothing to do but think. The silent cry is the always the loudest.

Heyes watched the Kid stride up to the bar; at the end, not in the middle. He had to watch the room as much as the new leader of the Devil's Hole Gang did. The blue eyes gazed around the bar, widening slightly at the sight of the man from his past. A frown flickered over his face before he glanced around the room to make sure there were no more surprises, but he stood his ground and watched as his cousin walked over to him.

"Kid? How've you been? It's been a long time."

"I'm good. What're you doing here? You weren't followed?"

"Nope." The dark eyes looked his cousin up and down. "You look good. Filled out some, but it suits you."

"Yeah, you could do with puttin' on a few pounds. How'd you find me?"

"Silky. He's got a good enough network to find a ghost," Heyes gestured over to the table. "I got a bottle. Join me?"

"A ghost, huh? I guess that kinda describes me." The Kid paused before nodding. "Is this safe?"

"I wouldn't be here if I thought it wasn't. It's been five years." A joyless dimple pitted Heyes' left cheek. "I thought about you all the time, Kid. I never stopped worrying about you."

"Me?" The Kid shrugged. "You should worry about the man who catches up with me."

"Come and talk to me, Kid. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

"Sure, why not?"

Heyes gestured to the barman for another glass before they strolled over to the table.

"What d'ya want, Heyes? You know us gettin' together is real risky."

His cousin slid a glass across the table. "I want you to come back with me. We've waited long enough for the dust to settle."

"Long enough?" One slim, fair eyebrow arched. "Based on what?"

"Based on the fact that I got a safe place for us. It's like a fortress and nobody comes in or out of there without my say so," Heyes sat back on his chair, "not now I'm leader."

"Leader?"

"Big Jim Santana was captured. The boys had a vote; they think I can get them bigger hauls," Heyes tossed back his whiskey. "Well, maybe I kinda promised them something like that.

"So that makes you..."

"Got it in one. I'm Leader of the Devil's Hole Gang... for now."

The blue ice started to melt. "You?" A chuckle started to roll around the Kid's lips. "At your age? There are some who'd say you've done well, but I'm guessin' most'd disagree; especially your Ma."

"Right back at ya, Fastest-Gun-In-The-West. How have you been making a living? Protecting church collections?"

"Mostly as hired help; more for what I might have to do, than what I do." The blue eyes stared into the depths of the glass. "I look on it as keepin' the peace."

Heyes paused. "One day there'll be someone faster, Kid. You'll have to kill or be killed."

A stiletto of blue ice was Kid Curry's only reply.

"There is another way. You can come back to The Hole with me. We'd be a team again." Heyes hand reached out across the table towards his cousin. "You and me; like old times. What d'ya say?"

The Kid sat back in his chair. "What's in it for me?"

"There's safety in numbers and you wouldn't have to be watching your back every minute of the day. You'd have me to do that for you."

The blue eyes narrowed cynically. "What's in it for you?"

Heyes gave a non-committal shrug. "I'm thinking of you, Kid. Sure you could help watch my back; a leader always needs a trusted man behind him, but you know I could get anyone to do that. I got three men, right now, watching this saloon."

"You don't trust me, Heyes?"

"It ain't you I'm worried about."

"So anyone will do? You don't need me then, do ya?"

"Nobody's good as you, Kid. You know that." Heyes' eyes brightened. "We're unbeatable together. You'd have a hideout, a place to relax. Surely it must be tempting to be able to lay your head down at night and not worry about somebody sneaking in and blowing your brains out because they want to be the man who killed Kid Curry?"

"You've still got that silver tongue, Heyes."

"Yeah, but it never did work too well on you." Heyes dropped the mask and stared into his cousin's eyes. "I've missed you. I've worried about you. We were great together, unbeatable. We could be the best, Kid. You and me running the gang. What d'ya say?"

The gunman sat back and contemplated the drink swirling in the shot glass. "We parted for a reason. That reason's still there."

"It was a long time ago and he's stopped looking now. I've been told it's been eighteen months since he sent anyone to find either of us."

"You've checked?"

Heyes nodded. "Sure I have. I wouldn't come for you if I hadn't. Everyone's moved on."

"Everyone?" The Kid stood and tossed down a few coins. "Thanks for the drink. I'll see ya around, Heyes."

Heyes followed the tense, stiff back out into the caustic sunlight. "Wait. I didn't mean..."

"This ain't gonna work," the Kid turned simmering eyes on his cousin. "You've moved on, they've moved on, everyone's just livin' life, just fine and dandy."

"Except you," Heyes murmured. He watched the man in front of him beat down any trace of the emotions threatening to overtake him. "And me." He laid a hand on the Kid's arm. "Did you ever think that I'm the same? That I smile and laugh to throw people off the scent? The brighter the light the darker the shadows, Kid. You show nothing, I wear a mask; but did you ever think we could help each other? You're the only person I can really be myself with."

Kid Curry stared off across the street, watching the two boys who were trying to impress a girl with their roping skills.

"Come back in. If we're gonna part, let's have a moment of complete honesty before we do, huh? You're the only person I can really talk to. Let's try to make some sense out of this."

"Sense?" The bitterness caught at the back of the Kid's throat. "None of it makes sense."

"Exactly. Life is too short to waste, so let's take it by the throat and shake it 'till its pockets are empty. We don't owe the universe anything; what has it ever done for us?" Heyes gave a wry smile. "If you want it to make sense, maybe we've been put here to be a warning to others. If that's the case, let's be one they'll never forget."

They stood in silence, contained in a bubble of contemplation punctured only by a sigh from the Kid. "You see them over there? Those two boys tryin' to impress the girl; they ain't even noticed the younger girl who keeps walkin' back and forth. They remind me of us with Clem."

"Yeah," Heyes chuckled lightly. "She sends her love."

The Kid turned back, engaging with his cousin at last. "How is she? Is she safe?"

"Safe, well, and as honest as they come," Heyes shook his head, "well, compared to the circles I move in anyway. Her pa's determined to keep her on the straight and narrow." He watched the blond head nod in satisfaction. "Come back in. Talk to me. If we can make some sense out of the past we might have a future."

The Kid sighed heavily. "That's when we crossed the line, Heyes. Up till then we could have given up crime and had normal lives. It just took that one job to take everything too far."

**Five years earlier... **

"All right now, places everyone," instructed the photographer from under the cloak draped over the camera and his hunched back. His three subjects assumed the positions he'd provided for each of them. "That's good. Now hold…it."

"How much longer is this gonna take?" frowned Jed.

"Sir, you must hold still!"

"Please, Jed, for me?" cajoled Clementine, batting her brown eyes at him.

"I don't see how come we have to do this today. Why we didn't wait for Jen? We should've waited for her." Jed Curry tugged at the starched collar of his best suit and was swiftly chastised by the photographer. His partner, Hannibal Heyes, was on the other side of their friend, Clementine Hale, and his eyes were thoroughly examining every object in the brightly lit studio. He was bursting with curiosity, but he kept a fixed expression on his usually mobile face. In Heyes' mind, it was a test of his willpower and skill to maintain a poker face.

"Why should we have waited for her?" said Clem, frowning. "I made this appointment weeks ago. She knew how much it meant to me. She's the one who chose not to be here."

"Clem, you know that's not true. She's working," said Heyes.

"Well, we could've helped her, but my sister didn't want us to come with her on her 'secret mission' for Soapy. She made it very plain that none of us were good enough to help her—Miss High-and-Mighty Genevieve Hale. Hmpf."

"Shh! No more talking and moving," snapped the irritated man under the cloak. The second his subjects were immobilized he snapped the shutter and, once finished, he ducked out of the studio with the plates so that he could fix them in the cyanide he kept in the backroom.

The three young people abandoned their positions and Heyes wandered over to the workbench covered by tools of the photography trade. Lifting each object, he looked it over, and placed it back exactly where he'd gotten it from.

"Ohh, I'm so excited, Jed. Now I'll have a photograph to remember you by," trilled Clementine happily.

"Yeah, well, that's the first and last photo anyone's takin' of me. I ain't sittin' through that kinda torture again," said Jed, turning to his partner. "Heyes, he's comin'."

Heyes put down the glass lens he'd been holding up to the light and stepped away from the bench as the photographer re-entered.

"Everything looks fine. Your portrait will be ready by tomorrow afternoon." The man quickly wrote out a receipt and passed it to Clementine. She smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you, Miss Hale. It has been my pleasure to serve you." He winked flirtatiously.

Jed took a step closer to Clem, glaring at the man behind the counter, and wrapping a possessive arm around her shoulders as he led her out of the studio.

The man behind the register cleared his throat and looked at Heyes. "That'll be two dollars and seventy-five cents, young man."

Heyes was annoyed at how easily his partner had left him paying for the picture. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Jed had set him up. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a five dollar bill he'd been saving as part of his poker stake, paid the man, and hurried after his friends. They were halfway up the street before he caught them. Jed had a hold of Clem's hand and they were laughing.

"You did that on purpose!" accused Heyes as he reached them.

"Now, Heyes, you know a gentleman never allows a lady to pay," purred Clem.

"Very funny. You two better give me a chance to win it back at poker tonight." Heyes fell into step on the other side of Clem and they strolled up the boardwalk.

"Ain't gonna be a game if Jen doesn't get back in time. What do you think she's up to?" asked Jed.

"I could care less," sniffed Clem.

Heyes and Jed smiled over her head at each other. The rivalry between the two Hale sisters had intensified ever since Soapy had taken Clem on as his newest apprentice and she began flourishing under his instruction. At four years her senior, Genevieve could no longer play the sweet, young thing and it irked her. She was jealous of the attention her mentor and her two friends were showering on her little sister and she took every opportunity to torment Clem, who responded in kind. The ill will had been escalating for the past month and Heyes and Jed had been caught in the middle.

The sight of the elegant figure sashaying towards them caused Clem's arms to tighten her grip on her escorts' arms.

"Talk of the devil," murmured Jed.

"Who was it who said that the devil can assume a pleasing shape?" Heyes grinned.

"Probably a demon," Clem snorted.

"She's got you pegged, Heyes." Jed released a clingy Clementine and raised his hat in greeting to the elegant brunette who bustled up to them. "The late Miss Genevieve Hale, I believe? Glad to see you made it at last."

"No! I missed it? I so wanted to get my photograph taken with you boys." The chocolate eyes widened and the little pert nose sniffed. "You went ahead without me?"

"Of course we did," Clementine angled her chin in challenge to her taller, older sister. "We were going to lose the appointment if we didn't go ahead," she smiled triumphantly. "Never mind, we took such a lovely picture without you. It really didn't matter."

"That's what you get for putting your career first," Heyes proffered an arm to Jen.

"Oh, shoot," Genevieve sighed, slipping her arm through Heyes'. "Maybe we can make another appointment?" She eyed her pouting sister archly. "It's only fair that I get to have my picture taken with you boys, too."

"Let's think about that, huh?" Jed patted Clementine's hand gently. "It ain't our fault you didn't show and that's half an hour of my life I'll never get back."

"What did Soapy need you for anyway?" Heyes asked.

"He's trying to hook a mark who has an eye for the ladies," Genevieve strolled along before hooking her sister's arm affectionately. "So he wanted to bring along his 'niece' so we could accidently bump into him."

Heyes nodded. "What's the game?"

"It's a variation on the Glim Dropper mixed with the Rip Deal," Genevieve purred. She clearly relished having the tall, dark man on her arm. "I'm working up to an invitation to his summer ball, where I'm planning on losing an emerald earring. I'll make sure his wife finds it," she arched an eyebrow. "I don't want to really lose it, you know. There are a lot of dishonest people out there."

"Why the wife?" asked Jed.

"She's the daughter of some rich family out East," Genevieve confirmed. "She knows good jewelry when she sees it, so it should help to establish credibility when Soapy gets my father to ask him to do some underhanded deal for him."

"Our father," pouted Clementine.

"Yes, our father. You have to excuse Clem, gentlemen. She's most put out that Soapy chose me for this. He thinks she's too young and innocent. He needed someone more sophisticated." Genevieve rolled her eyes. "Innocent? If only he knew."

"I'm no worse than you are," Clem retorted.

"Ladies," Heyes looked at each woman in turn. "I wouldn't trust either of you as far as I could throw you, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. Now, who's for some tea?"

"Tea?" Clementine gave a little skip still clutching onto Jed's arm. "Can we go to the Willow? They have the best cakes there."

"Cake, Clem?" Genevieve looked down her nose at her sister. "You'll never lose that puppy fat. You don't want to look like a tubby little jollux, do you?"

"I'm not a jollux!" cried Clementine. "I just have a round face. Tell her I'm not a jollux, Jed."

"I would if I knew what one was," Jed smiled.

"It's a fat little girl who scarfs down cakes," laughed Genevieve. "Honestly, Clem. You're seventeen now. You have to stop skipping in the street. Your deportment is a nightmare."

"She's full of life, is all," Jed smiled down at the suddenly stiff Clementine at his side. "I like it."

"Thank you, Jed." Clementine thrust out a little pink tongue at her sister. "I don't want to be a cold fish like you, Jen."

"There's a difference between cold and cool, Clementine. A lady should be aloof."

"You know, I'm beginning to think we could leave the ladies to get tea and we could go to the saloon," mused Heyes.

"That's not very gentlemanly," chided Genevieve. "You'd just abandon us in the street?"

Heyes' cheeks dimpled. "Certainly not. We'd take you to the door of the tearoom."

"But why?" simpered Clementine. "You promised."

"Because I'm tired of listening to you two arguing," growled Heyes, "At least in there, the girls are arguing over us."

"But we are arguing over you two, sweetie." Clementine allowed an indiscreet finger to trail over Jed's lapels as she beamed at her glowering sister. "Jen is just too aloof to let you know."

"Well, if this is how you're gonna go about it, I'd say you're wastin' your time."

"Jed! That's no way to speak to a lady!" Clementine pouted and twirled toward her sister. "See what you've done?"

"Darling, I've hardly done it alone," countered Jen.

"C'mon, Kid, I hear a cold beer calling my name. The _ladies_ can fend for themselves," said Heyes, turning on his heels and stepping off the sidewalk.

"Clem. Jen. See you around," Curry lifted his hat slightly, nodded, and caught up to his partner. The two women left standing together on the sidewalk took a moment to savor the departing view before turning on each other again.

"How dare they? This is all your fault." Clementine stamped a daintily-clad slipper on the sidewalk and curled her hands into fists, rounding on her sister.

"Hardly. No man likes to feel cornered. You need to brush up on your skills. I doubt you'll be much use to Soapy with such a heavy-handed approach. He requires more finesse," purred Jen. She smile sweetly and started to depart, but a kid-gloved hand shot out and caught her forearm.

"I'm every bit as good as you are and Soapy knows it!"

"Of course you are, dear, that's why he chose me for his next little project." Jen shook off her sister's grip. She tipped her pointed chin loftily and tossed back her dark ringlets with a careless gesture. "Good day, little sister."

"Why, you self-centered cow, I'll show you," began Clementine, but her sister had already sailed regally up the sidewalk and the words drowned in her wake. Making up her mind as to her next course of action, Clementine hurried in the direction her two male friends had taken. She knew where they were going so she ducked into a shortcut behind the dry goods store, looked quickly about her, hiked her skirts to an unseemly height, and broke into a run for the length of the alleyway. As she reached the next street, she skidded to a stop, patted her hair in place, and stepped onto the sidewalk. She saw the two familiar, broad-shouldered figures nearing Tom's Saloon. She had to stop them.

"Heyes, yoo-hoo! Jed, wait up!" she yelled out in a decidedly desperate tone. The men stopped in their tracks and turned to watch her hurrying at a fast walk up the sidewalk towards them and then she was upon them.

"Clem, you can't come into the saloon with us," said Heyes firmly.

"I have no desire to go into a smelly, old saloon," sniffed Clementine. "I need to talk to you."

"We were just talking. At least, you were." Heyes looked longingly at the saloon.

"Where's Jen?" asked Jed.

"She left. She's not part of what I want to talk to you about," said Clementine. "Please, it's important and I don't want to discuss it on the street. Let's take a short walk and, then if you wish, you can drink yourselves silly all evening." Without waiting for an answer, she slipped an arm through the crook of Jed's elbow and linked her other arm around Heyes'. The two men shared a bemused glance and allowed themselves to be led along past the storefronts by the tiny dynamo between them. The businesses were doing brisk business so Clementine cut over to a side street to attain some privacy. "I've been thinking," she began. Heyes rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly cut him off, "Hush, hear me out. How long have you two been apprenticing with Soapy?"

Jed stiffened, "Why?"

"Almost a year," answered Heyes.

"Don't you think it's about time he let you pull a con of your own?"

"No," said Jed quickly.

"Yes," said Heyes at the same time.

"Soapy said we ain't ready!" Jed stopped and stared at his two companions.

"What are you suggesting, Clem?" asked the darker-haired young man.

Clementine smiled triumphantly and squeezed his arm. "I think it's time we prove to Soapy what we are capable of."

"Forget it, Clem. Soapy'd have our hides," said Jed.

"Now hold on, Kid. Let's hear her out."

"Heyes, you ain't considerin' crossin' up Soapy, are you?" A sharp, brown-eyed glance assured Jed that his partner was only seeking information so he clammed up and frowned down at the young girl between them.

"What if we pulled our own con? One so successful, so brilliantly planned, Soapy would have to concede that you and Heyes are no longer apprentices, but full-fledged bamboozlers?" asked Clementine.

"And what about you?" asked Heyes.

"What about little, old me?" Clementine looked up sweetly.

"What do you get out of it? He isn't going to graduate you so quickly."

"I know that. I get the satisfaction of seeing my two favorite beaus earn the respect and admiration of their mentor."

"Yeah, right," snorted Jed.

"Well, I would also see my sister turn green with jealousy."

"And there we have it." Jed let go of her arm and swung around in front of her. "We ain't doing it!"

Clementine tightened her grip on Heyes' arm. "Fine, you don't have to help me. Heyes is more than man enough to get the job done."

Heyes gently disengaged himself from her other arm. "Only Heyes isn't going to help you either."

"Then I'll do it myself!"

"No, we can't let you do that. It's too dangerous," said Heyes.

"You can't stop me!"

"Sure we can. We'll just tell Soapy what you've got planned and he'll send you home," threatened Jed.

Clementine smiled up at him. "He'll send you away, too, when he finds out you've been practicing shooting behind his back, and he'll send Heyes with you for card-sharping when he expressly told him not to."

"You wouldn't!" said two outraged voices.

"I will, too. And, if I get sent home, at least I have a home to go to. Where do you think you two will end up?" she asked viciously.

Heyes growled his frustration, ran his hands through his hair, and then reached both clawed fists towards her slender neck as though he'd choke the life from her. Jed grabbed both his arms and pulled him several yards down the alley. "Heyes, she's got us. What're we gonna do?"

The dark young man was still glaring at Clem. "I don't know. She's right. Soapy'll axe us if he finds out we crossed him."

"Damn it all to hell! He'll also can us if he finds out we did a con without him. Either way, we lose and I ain't lettin' her blackmail us! She's supposed to be our friend," growled Jed, turning towards the silhouetted figure waiting from them near the mouth of the alley.

Heyes sighed. "Ain't you learned yet, Kid, we're the only friends either of us have? We don't have a choice here. Look at it this way, if we do what she's asking, we might just get away with it." He walked back to Clementine and looked down at her with loathing. "All right, we'll do it, but if we get caught, you're on your own."

Clementine felt only a momentary prickle of guilt, but despite that, she giggled delightedly and jumped from one foot to the other. "So what should we do, the Fiddle game, or maybe the Badger? Ohh, this is going to be so much fun!"

"Yeah, some fun," muttered Jed.

OOOOOOOOO

Genevieve Hale turned glowing eyes on Ernest Archibald Burdon; banker, lay preacher, and politician. The man with the extravagant white whiskers was known to have a shrewd financial mind, a fine turn of phrase for debating, and an ability to turn a dollar into ten. He was notoriously mean; the kind of man who kept the Sabbath, and everything else he could lay his hands on. He also liked the ladies, much to the chagrin of his ever-suffering wife, Effie, who watched Genevieve skillfully tread the fine line between coquettishness and respectability.

The young woman had caught Ernest's eye from the beginning of the Summer Ball and Effie had seen his infatuation grow by the minute. She pretended to ignore her husband's folly as she stood by his side listening to the orchestra and admiring the colorful twirl of dancers gliding across the ballroom.

"You do have such a magnificent collection, Mr. Burdon. It is so sad that father isn't able to show you his." Genevieve's cut-glass English accent floated easily over the music. "Maybe one day we can offer you and Mrs. Burdon some hospitality in Kennilworth, if you ever get over to dear old England?"

"Disgusting, if you ask me; all those bugs all over the house," Mrs. Burdon shuddered. "I'd put the lot of them in the bin. It's unhygienic."

"They are beetles, not bugs, Effie. I've told you before, bugs have piercing mouth parts while beetles have chewing mouthparts." Burdon picked the decanter and poured himself bourbon without offering anything to anyone else. "In any case, they are dead; fastened to the felt with a pin. They're going nowhere."

"I don't find them disgusting, Mrs. Burdon," Genevieve clasped her hands on her lap, "but Papa brought me up with his insect collection. You should see his butterflies, they are beautiful. We display them in cases in the hallway instead of art. They are arranged in groups and they look as fine as jewels. They are grouped in families, I think."

"Genus," Mr. Hale corrected his daughter in his own adopted English tones. "They are arranged by genus, Arrabelle." He looked around at his marks with raised eyebrows. "Honestly, if only I'd had a son. Girls just can't grasp scientific matters, can they, Mr. Burdon?"

"They can't grasp much, but when they're as pretty as little Arrabelle here, they don't need to." Burdon studiously ignored his glowering wife. "A pretty girl is like a flower come to life, walking over God's good earth. Where would we be without them, huh, Abbott? I bet her mother was a real looker." Burdon nudged Mr. Hale. "Huh, look at those eyes."

Genevieve's painted-on smile beamed through the knowledge that it hadn't been her eyes Burdon had been staring at. "Yes, I favor my mother." She turned to Mrs. Burdon. "Do you have children? Are they here?"

"Yes, Miss Abbot. I do. I believe my..."

"William is here," Burdon cut in over his wife and gestured towards the dancers. "He's over there with the Clements girl. He's very popular with the ladies as you can imagine. He takes after his father."

"My daughters are..." Mrs. Burdon continued.

"Yeah, I have three daughters, but we all know it's the boys who carry on the family line, don't we, Abbott?" Burdon stood. "Women are mere receptacles in God's plan. We praise the chef or the dish, don't we? Who admires the oven?"

"Oh, my goodness!" Genevieve decided she'd had enough. "My earring. I've lost it." Misty eyes fixed on Mrs. Burdon. "It's my mother's emerald. I must find it."

Mrs. Burdon peered at Genevieve's ear. "I did notice it not so long ago. They are stunning. Let me help you, it can't have gone far. Stand up, dear."

Genevieve clasped her hands delicately to her chest and allowed her enormous, panicked doe-eyes to do most of the work. The matron's deft fingers swept over the cushions of the couch and probed into the cracks; she paused, before a triumphant smile lit up her face. "Here it is." She held the jewel aloft to admire the verdant richness in the light. "So beautiful. The emerald drop is flawless and the diamond setting just catches the eye. I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Oh, thank heavens," Genevieve's eyes glittered with faux relief. "It was my late mother's. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost it."

"Wonderful craftsmanship," Mrs. Burdon raised a marcasite lorgnette to examine the precious stone, and the exquisite Italianate design of the diamonds set around both the emerald and the clasp. She pursed her lips and gave Genevieve a knowing look. "And very expensive."

"Precious, to me," this was one of the only truths the young flim-flammer had uttered since she entered the ball. "I remember her wearing them. She was the most beautiful woman in the county. They make me feel close to her."

"My wife knows good jewelry when she sees it. She's of real good stock. Her folks made a fortune in sugar and slaves. She grew up with the best of everything," Burdon beamed proudly, "and then she met me."

Genevieve replaced her lost earring, stretching her neck to the side and showcasing the alabaster décolletage emerging from the pastel green taffeta.

"You need to be more careful with those," Mr. Hale chided. "Your mother inherited those from her own mother. They've been in the family for generations. I'll have to think long and hard about allowing anything else out of the safe."

His daughter glanced up at him though long lashes. "I will Papa. Goodness, my heart just juddered to a stop when I thought I'd lost it."

"You do right, Abbott," Burdon slapped Hale on the back. "You've got to be strict with these girls. Now boys; that's a different matter altogether. You haven't got a son, have you?"

"No, we were never blessed with a son. Just two beautiful daughters."

"You have another daughter?" Mrs. Burdon beamed. "I would love to meet her. You should have brought her too."

"No," Hale shook his bald head. "She is too young for a journey like this; it would interrupt her coming out."

"Coming out?" Burdon frowned. "They do that in England, too? Cotillions?"

"Certainly," Genevieve giggled. "When but women of a certain class come of age in England they are presented at court before any ball takes place."

Burdon looked even more confused. "Court? The law?"

"Not that kind of court. She, and all the other eligible young women of a suitable background, will be presented to the Queen before embarking on a season of balls to formally introduce them to society. She will only meet the very best people. All upper class young women do it, but my sister is irrepressible. My aunt, Lady Methville, will see her through the season. She'll certainly have her hands full with Helena." She smiled at the older woman. "You remind me a lot of my aunt. I think she'd like you. You know how easily girls can get their head turned in a swirl of ball gowns and suitors. They need a firm hand to keep them on the straight and narrow."

"You did that?" Mrs. Burdon's eyes bulged. "You met Queen Victoria."

Genevieve smiled her coyest smile. "Of course. Hasn't everyone?"

"These balls. They're big?" Burdon was glancing around the room, competitively measuring up his own summer ball and wondering if it was good enough.

"They're tiring," Genevieve replied, diplomatically. "I prefer less formality, where people can relax and truly be themselves. Don't you? This feels far more like a celebration to me. I like it here." She glanced around at the kaleidoscope of gowns sweeping past as they danced around the room. "Maybe I should live in America, Papa?"

"Where is William?" Mrs. Burdon frowned. "He really should meet Miss Abbott."

"He has left, Madam," the servant bearing a bottle of champagne whispered discretely. "There was a card game, I believe..."

Mrs. Burdon's eyes hardened to steel-grey. "Ernest, can I have a word?"

"Not now, Effie." He puffed on his fat cigar. "Abbott and I have some business to discuss."

"But William has left without saying anything to us."

"Effie! This is business. You can talk to him about that tomorrow."

OOOOOOOOO

"You know, Clem can be harder to shake than one of them Mississippi snappin' turtles when she sets her mind on something. I'm sure glad Soapy's got her workin' tonight, 'cause I'm sick to death of her yammerin' on about that con of hers. We're gonna have to come up with a plan real soon just to shut her up," said Jed Curry.

"I'm trying, Kid, believe me. Let's not talk about it, okay? It's time for some beers and poker." Heyes pushed open the batwing doors and stepped into the gloom of the saloon followed by Jed. It was nearing the supper hour and the place was beginning to fill up. The two men blinked several times in response to the acrid miasma of cigar smoke and stale sweat filling the room and then made their way to the bar.

Curry gestured to the bartender, holding up two fingers and then tapping the bar top in front of him. Almost instantly, two frothy beers were plunked down. He pushed two-bits across the copper surface and watched as it disappeared under the portly man's grimy apron. The beer was cold. In most places, ice was simply too hard to come by to be used to chill drink, but not in Denver. You could get pretty much anything you wanted in Denver. He lifted his mug and pulled a long, deep draught, humming with pleasure before eying the red-headed bar maid serving a table of card players.

Heyes' eyes followed his gaze. "Looks like a pretty good game." A mass of chips filled the middle of the green baize table. In front of each player stood more stacks of neatly organized chips. There was a small fortune being hotly contested and a crowd had gathered around to watch.

A sandy-haired, goateed man seated with his back to the wall looked up. His eyes scanned the room with the authority of a seasoned card sharp and he locked on Heyes and the Kid for a second, noting the cut of their expensive, tailored suits. He nodded to the empty seat next to him.

"Uh, I think that fella figures he's found his next mark," drawled Jed, smiling at the man and lifting his beer in a casual salute. "He's all yours, Heyes; game's too rich for my blood."

"Yeah, little does he know that Soapy footed the bill for these fancy duds. I'm sure not gonna set him straight. I'll see what the buy-in is, maybe I can finagle something," said a dimpled Heyes. He finished his beer, set the empty mug on the counter, and started to walk towards the table. Before he could reach his destination, he felt someone brush rudely by him, and he saw a well-dressed young man, close to his own age, lurch towards the gambler.

"I've got my stake, Mr. Dunham, five thousand. It's all here," said the young man, breathlessly, "Am I too late?" He tossed a bundle of bills on the table and plopped down in the empty seat.

Heyes stopped and turned back to the bar, bellying up to the rail in order to be inconspicuous, but he kept his attention on the table. That was a hell of a lot of money for someone that age to carry around and he wanted to hear how the man came by it.

"William, we thought you'd reconsidered joining us." The gambler's smile didn't reach his eyes, and Heyes saw the naked cunning written in them. "Are you sure you're not getting in over your head?"

"There's plenty more where that came from," said William. "Deal me in."

"Really? Well, then, let's play."

Heyes watched several hands before he walked back to where the Kid stood at the bar and ordered another beer. He didn't say anything as he waited to be served and Curry thought he was upset at being cut out of the game.

"Maybe next time, Heyes," said Jed, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "It shouldn't take too long for him to fleece that kid; then you can have a crack at him."

A brilliant grin flashed at him. "It's the kid I want a crack at."

"Huh?"

"I think I just found Clem's mark."

Jed grinned and looked again at the heavy-set boy with jet black hair. He was staring at his cards as though his future was written in them. It didn't take a pro to see that the boy had no poker face at all. "Better hurry, Heyes, or he's gonna be broke soon."

"Nope, his new best friend's gonna make sure he walks away with his cash. The sharpie's cheating and I know how he's doing it." Heyes put down his beer and straightened his jacket. "Play along with me, Kid. Okay?"

"Don't I always, partner?" Jed followed Heyes through the crowd until they stood before the table of five players. William was engrossed in his hand, but Dunham looked up with a smile.

"Sorry, Gentlemen, game's full up. You'll have to wait your turn to play."

"I have no intention of playing, sir," said Heyes pleasantly, shocking his partner with a phony English accent. The other players, including William, looked up at him with little interest.

"Then what can I do for you?" said Dunham, suspiciously.

"Delightful you should ask. You, sir, are a master. May I have the privilege of shaking your hand?" Heyes thrust his right hand towards the man and, in a reflex reaction, Dunham clasped it.

Confusion crossed his goateed face and he stood politely, still holding onto Heyes' hand, thinking a mistake had been made. "Mister, I'm not sure who you think I am…"

"Oh, it's very simple, really. I am an aficionado of poker, sir, and, I must say, I've never seen anyone quite as capable as you," gushed Heyes.

Dunham relaxed and smiled. "Well, thank you, sir."

"Capable of cheating, that is," said Heyes as his left hand slipped an ace from Dunham's right sleeve. He held up the card for the crowd to see and angry mutters arose. Chairs slid back from the table, screeching across the wooden flooring. Bodies pressed closer and hands reached out, clutching at Dunham's dress coat. Someone shouted to the barkeep to fetch the sheriff. One of the other men seated at the table, slipped his hand inside his jacket, but stopped short as he felt Jed's hand drop on his shoulder.

"Uh uh, you don't want to make any wrong moves," said Curry coldly. His right index finger poked roughly into the man's back mimicking the weapon Soapy forbid him to carry. The man lifted both hands up, holding his wallet in one. Jed 'holstered' his gun.

The sheriff arrived and hustled Dunham off to jail while the other men at the table divided the chips up according to their antes and then split Dunham's stacks. William stuffed his money into his jacket pocket and stood up, facing Heyes and Jed.

"Sirs, thank you. I'm in your debt. May I buy you a drink? I'm William Burdon."

Heyes bowed formally, "Please, allow me to introduce myself, I'm Juan Ignacio Arturo Espinosa of the Principality of Asturias and this is my hired man, Clyde Hoggs." He smiled charmingly at William and swept an arm towards a frowning Jed, who was not nearly so pleased with his own alias.

"Asturias? Never heard of it," said William.

"Ah, we are a small but important part of the glorious Kingdom of Spain. Perhaps you are aware of the wealth of coal and iron that flows from our region into the coffers of the monarchy?"

"Er, no, but I don't get out of Colorado much. You don't sound Spanish," said William.

"That is due to my education at Oxford, my good man. Father, the Duke, always said that English was the language of commerce and trade. He insisted that I learn it. Alas, my accent is terrible, but my native tongue is so rusty I fear to speak it."

"The Duke?"

Heyes nodded, "Yes, the Duke, my father, God rest his soul."

"He's dead? I'm sorry to hear that." William's eyes widened as a thought struck him, "I guess that makes you the Duke now?"

Waving a dismissive hand, Heyes chuckled, "The Duke of Caudal, the Prince of Asturias, but what's in a name? You, my new friend, may call me Juan, and I will call you William," Heyes threw his arm across Burdon's shoulders and steered him towards the bar, waving the barkeep over, and ordering a bottle of the saloon's finest Scotch. "Let's drink to our meeting, shall we?"

After several glasses of Scotch, William excused himself to use the facilities. Jed watched him go out the back door of the saloon and then rounded on Heyes. "A prince?! Are you crazy? You expect him to swallow that?"

"Looks like he already has," said Heyes smugly. "Besides, it was a test. If he buys me as a prince, he'll be the perfect patsy for Clem's Spanish Prisoner." A wide, gleaming smile creased Heyes' face.

It was slowly mirrored by Jed's. "The Spanish Prisoner, huh? Yeah, that just might work."


	2. Chapter 2

"He's perfect, Clem. Not too bright, but very, very rich." Heyes was sitting on the edge of the desk and leaning towards his younger friend, who was seated behind it. She had been writing a brief note to a friend when they had barged into the parlor, startling her.

Her eyes sparkled in response to the wicked gleam in his, "So when do I get the chance to meet this paragon?"

"We invited him to dinner Saturday night; that is if you still want to go through with it." Jed flopped down in one of the wing chairs placed by the hearth, casually tossed a booted leg over one satin arm, and slouched against the other. Something he wouldn't dare do if Soapy had been home, but he wasn't. Soapy had left early Tuesday morning with Genevieve and her father for a trip to San Francisco. Transcontinental railroad service had reached Denver earlier that summer and it was now possible to travel all the way from the east to the city by the bay. It had also cemented Denver's importance to the inner West.

Soapy would be gone for at least ten days. Despite having admonished his young charges to behave, his absence went a long way to assuaging Jed's misgivings about pulling a con without his consent.

Jed and Heyes had been visiting the saloon for the past few nights, playing poker with William Burdon, and getting a feel for the man before they brought Clem in on their plan. William was a terrible poker player, but he took his losses well. Jed couldn't fault his manners, but there was something about the man that niggled at him. He'd tried to bait him, had deliberately gloated over every hand he won, and Heyes made sure he won quite a few, but William had remained unflappable. On the other hand, Heyes had commiserated with William and had offered many helpful tips thereby noticeably improving young Burdon's poker-playing skills and cementing their new friendship.

Clem was delighted to hear that Heyes had finally come up with a plan. She had seethed with envy as she'd watched her sister and her new stylish wardrobe depart with her father and her mentor. Before they'd gone, Jen had made it a point to gush on and on about the wonders of San Francisco, driving home the fact that she had already visited the city by the sea and would be there again before Clementine ever had the pleasure. It wasn't fair!

All her life she had lived in Jen's shadow and it had never bothered her until recently. She had worshipped her older sister and had tried to emulate her in all things, but as she'd grown older and neared her maturity, the worship had turned to jealousy. Clem was only four years younger, but everyone treated her like a child. Her father still referred to her as his little princess. Heyes and Jed treated her like a pesky pet rather than see her as the woman she was. No matter how hard she tried, they never took her seriously.

She could still remember the day she had met them. Jen had brought her two new friends home for dinner one evening and Clem had felt her heart leap when Jed came through the door; it had positively jumped for joy when a second handsome dark-haired boy had followed him. She had been sure that one of them would be interested in her. She hadn't even cared which one. As long as she'd known them, she had never been able to decide which one she was more attracted to; not that it had ever mattered. Not then and not now.

She'd spent that entire evening watching the two young men compete for her sister's attentions, making fools of themselves hanging on Jen's every word. Despite her best efforts, they'd seen her as a child. To this day, she still flirted outrageously with them both, but they never crossed the line. In her uglier moments, she wondered how often they had crossed it with Jen.

She glanced at her two friends. Well, she certainly had their attention now. They were both staring at her expectantly, waiting for her approval. She let them hang for a moment before speaking, savoring her power over them. They would pull this con and everyone would know that she was as good as her sister.

Clem smiled demurely. "Let's do it! Mr. Burdon will never know what hit him."

OOOOOOOOO

Burdon nodded towards the slight figure sitting at the other side of his expansive desk in his San Francisco office. "This is Norman Abbott, Crighton." The banker's stare underscored the statement to his underling. "He's come from England to look into setting up an import-export business and needs some banking facilities."

"Right away, Sir." The assistant manager's hands came together increasing his similarity to an enormous praying mantis. "I'll fetch the paperwork. Can I get you gentlemen some refreshments? Some coffee, perhaps?"

"Coffee?" Hale beamed. "Why, yes, a coffee would be most acceptable."

"Get that organized, Crighton," Burdon sat back in his leather chair and smiled at the flim flammer. "So tell me more about this business of yours."

"My shipping line already does business between South America and the Caribbean, so it makes sense to look at coming up to the United States," Hale shifted in the little upright chair and emphasized his affected English accent. "After all, we're no longer enemies, are we? That old war was in a different century. We're allies now. We even speak the same language," he shrugged, "after a fashion."

"So what is the cargo?"

Hale had enough of the uncomfortable chair. He stood and strolled over to the bookcase. "We will be taking heavy machinery from Liverpool to off-load it in Cape Town. Then we'll pick up various minerals and metals, head to Hong Kong for opium, and then continue onto San Francisco for wheat." Hale idly spun the globe on the corner of the desk. "We'll go around the Horn to collect a load of beef from Argentina and head back to Liverpool. Great Britain needs the wheat and the beef to feed our growing industrial class."

Burdon's eyes lit up. "Minerals and metals? Opium?"

"Yes. South Africa is full of gold, diamonds, and copper." Hale spun the globe wildly. "Everybody wants that; and I understand that opium is almost currency. It'll sell anywhere, but I'm told it's very popular in San Francisco."

"Yes…" Burdon murmured thoughtfully. "That sounds like a very profitable business."

"Yes, well; it's a whole lot less profitable since they took slaves off the market. I blame the Quakers." Hale stopped the globe with a stab of a finger. "Nobody thought of Africans as men until they started all their campaigning, damn them. That was the leg of the trade route that made the most money. Since your little internal spat ended the trade here in the U.S.A. I have had to find another way to keep the family business afloat." Hale's eyes widened as his though his own joke had suddenly hit him. "Afloat? Oh, I say. That was rather droll of me, what?"

"Most amusing," Burdon's eyes betrayed the machinations behind the gruff visage. "Diamonds?"

"I have to find out which is the most efficacious new cargo. Right now I don't want to put all my eggs in the same basket. We almost fell afoul of that with this slavery business. Diversify; that's what I need to do. "

A sharp rap at the door shook the banker out of his musings. "Come in."

A pale, thin boy, wearing a suit he was clearly meant to grow into, clattered into the room. "Coffee, sir?"

"Yes, on the desk, Hawkins." Burdon's brow furrowed. "Not on the files!" He watched the nervous lad shift the tray, "or the mail."

Hale took pity on the clerk. "Let me. I perfected being mother when I was a fag at Eton. Daisy Welport used to like me to warm his buns for him. His real name was David, but everyone called him Daisy because his father made his fortune in chains."

Hawkins' eyes widened as he backed off from the strange Englishman and his outlandish ways. His father had warned him about foreigners.

"What?" Burdon demanded.

"If you ever want a spotted Dick, I'm your man." Hale smiled, benignly, "and I can arrange iced fingers with the best of them."

"Abbott, what are you wittering about?"

"Being mother," Hale's love of the provocative had been inherited by both his daughters, but he was the original font of dead-pan mischief. "It means pouring the beverages. What does it mean here?"

"Nothin'," shock made Burdon's original parochial tones cut through his businesslike façade, "but the rest…"

"Being a fag?" Hale lifted the coffee pot. "It means being a servant to the senior boys. All the students do it when they're juniors, even royalty. It teaches humility, not to mention numerous practical skills. Do you know I'd never polished a boot until then? I learned a lot, I can tell you. Cream or sugar?"

"What about buns and spotted whatnots?" Burdon's color started to return to normal as he shook his head.

"Cakes and puddings," Hale handed over the cup. "It was my job to collect them from the village for his tea. Why? What does it mean here?"

Burdon turned on the clerk. "Why are you still here?"

"Sorry, sir…" the flustered lad backed off, bumping into the chair. "Thank you, sir."

Hale watched the door close behind the harassed minion. "Sweet boy, but none too bright. A relation of yours?"

OOOOOOOOO

The hansom cab drew up at the docks, the driver looking around doubtfully at the swarthy stevedores and menacing mariners. He leaned forward to consult with his passenger through the window from his vantage point at the back. "Miss, are you sure this is the right place?"

Genevieve turned a smiling face up to the driver. "The Baltasara from Bristol?" She watched the driver nod. "Then we are in the right place."

"I dunno; there are some shady characters about. I don't feel happy about lettin' a respectable young woman off here."

"I shall be fine," she chirped. "Will you wait for me and take me home again? I shan't be above twenty minutes. I just have to see the captain."

"Well, if'n you're sure," the cabbie frowned. "I'd sure be happier waitin' for you. That way I can make sure you're safe. They got no respect, these sailors. I hear they got a girl in every port."

"I can assure you that I'm not one of them," Genevieve giggled. "My father would shoot a man like that through the heart. I'm here to see an old friend of the family; I would appreciate your ensuring I get back home safely."

The driver glanced around again. "I'll be here, Miss. Rest assured on that. I'll make sure you're treated with respect between here and the ship."

"Thank you," Genevieve stepped out of the vehicle and handed some coins up to her protector. "I'll be twenty minutes, maybe less. I simply need to invite him for a family visit."

She walked briskly towards the vessel, finding the gangplank while studiously ignoring the curious gazes and catcalls from those brave enough to ensure they had the protection of distance from their victim. Even foreign seafarers knew the rules; respectable women were off limits. Sometimes highborn females were headstrong enough to ignore the rules; they could be needled as long as it didn't go too far, just enough to let them know they had wandered into a world they had no business being in; lower class women were fair game. Genevieve had played both and being lower class was to be avoided at all costs; those women had more choices, but that came hand-in-hand with little or no power.

A young man sporting a full beard and wearing a naval uniform approached her, his brow furrowing in curiosity. "Can I help you, Miss?"

Genevieve nodded and slipped into her heightened Received Pronunciation accent. "I'm looking for Captain Lavery. Is he aboard?"

The young man shook his head. "I'm sorry, he's ashore. I've been left in charge. My name is Lieutenant Smythe. Can I help?"

"Oh!" The brown eyes widened, noting the English pronunciation of 'leff-tenant'. She had to store that away to make sure she didn't slip up. "Well, you may be the very man. I have a great favor to ask of you."

"Favor?" Smythe looked intrigued; being left behind while everyone went ashore to enjoy the delights of dry land was normally the short straw. This doe-eyed beauty was a more than welcome diversion. "What kind of favor, Miss…?"

"Abbott. Arrabelle Abbott, Mr. Smyth. Where are you from?" This was not a small talk. A flim flammer had to know who they were dealing with.

"Bristol, Miss Abbot," Smythe smiled, "and you?"

"London. Do you know it?"

Smythe shook his head, much to Genevieve's relief. "Only the docks. I don't expect that's an area a lady like you would frequent," he raised an eyebrow, "apart from today."

"Occasionally Daddy would take us to see one of the ships when we were very little. Mummy didn't think it proper once we got a bit older." She frowned at an Asian man with a face as brown as a nut staring at her from a hatch. "We live over here now, in San Francisco. I have the greatest of kindnesses to ask. Daddy is ill," she gave a pretty moué and lowered her eyes. "He is wandered in the head. Sometimes he is absolutely fine but at others he thinks he is young again and still at sea. He lived for the sea, Mummy used to say he had salt water in his veins. It would mean so much to me if he could visit a boat for his birthday tomorrow."

Smythe chuckled lightly. "It a ship, Miss Abbott. A ship can carry a boat, but a boat can't carry a ship. That's the easy way to remember the difference."

Genevieve looked coyly through her long lashes. "If Daddy had explained it so well, I'd never have made such a silly mistake. Would it be possible for him to look over your ship? His doctor has a theory that once he's immersed in things he is familiar with he has extended periods of lucidity, then I think he can enjoy his birthday." Eyes of molten chocolate washed over the young man. "Please?"

"Just be shown around?"

"Yes, I was told you don't leave until the day after tomorrow. I won't take too much of your time."

Smythe sighed. "He was a sea man, Miss Abbott?"

"A captain, on the Forbes-White line."

"That was taken over about ten years ago."

Genevieve nodded. "Yes. We got Daddy home at last. Please?"

"Is he dangerous?"

Genevieve feigned shock. "Goodness me, no. Daddy wouldn't hurt a fly. In any case he'll have his doctor with him."

The young officer weighed things up. The cargo was nearly loaded and almost everyone was enjoying some hard-earned shore leave. He could do worse than spend time in the company of this lovely fawn. It sure beat watching the bo'sun take inventory on the supplies for the next leg, but he had no way of clearing this with the absent captain.

She laid a gentle hand on the lieutenant's forearm. Every movement was calculated manipulation. She had been taught a long time ago that a woman never touches a man accidently, only incidentally, and that even a carefully placed finger can send the message that she finds him attractive; done well it can also tell him that she is worth the chase too. The Hale girls were still learning the craft of flim flamming but they were certainly gifted amateurs. "I will be eternally grateful."

Smythe bit. "Yes, why not? It's always good to help a fellow sea man. Shall we say noon?"

Genevieve gave a gasp of delight. "Noon it is. I shall see your tomorrow, Leff-tenant Smythe."

She turned and made her way back down the gang plank towards her cab with her agile mind buzzing. The mark was about to see one the 'Abbott's ships.' That should help close the trap. Burdon was the perfect patsy; wealthy, greedy, selfish and proud. They wouldn't take too much, just enough to make sure he'd be too embarrassed to report the loss, after all, nobody ever choked to death swallowing their pride, did they?

OOOOOOOOO

"Would you care for another aperitif, Mr. Burdon?" Clem smiled sweetly at the young man seated across the huge polished mahogany dining table of the furnished mansion Heyes had rented with his poker winnings; the bulk of which had flowed from William's pocket. The glow of the silver candelabras lent an intimate atmosphere to the room.

"Yes, thank you, Your Highness." William eyed the fetching creature before him. She had been a pleasant surprise. He hadn't been expecting female company and he was trotting out his best behavior. Here he was, William Burdon of Denver, being entertained by royalty! He only wished his father could see him. His old man never gave him any respect.

"Oh, please, call me Isabella. If you are a friend of my dear Juan than you are certainly a friend of mine," Clem cooed.

Jed stood by the door watching the tableau with a neutral expression pasted onto his face. His job was to serve the meal and oversee the evening. He'd had the hotel down the street prepare a sumptuous dinner which was now packed and staying warm on the old coal stove in the unused kitchen.

Heyes raised his glass of champagne and cleared his throat. "To friends and family." At the stricken, pained expression that sprang to his 'sister's' face, he dropped his hand and stammered apologetically. "Isabella, I…I…I'm so sorry! That was thoughtless."

Clementine leapt to her feet on cue, swept her linen napkin to her face, and fled the room. William stood up quickly, shocked by her sudden departure, and turned back questioningly to Heyes, who was shaking his head. Gesturing to Jed, Heyes stood and said, "Clyde, please see to the princess."

Jed nodded and left the room, closing the double doors behind him. He stood in the hallway with Clem, their ears glued to the dining room doors, their faces alive with anticipation.

"William, forgive me. My careless words have caused my sister much pain." Heyes ran a weary hand through his hair.

"I don't understand."

"Please, sit down, and I will explain." Heyes waited for William to be seated, then sank into his own chair as though the weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders. "I was hoping that this evening would be enjoyable for my dear sister. She's been so heartbroken."

"Heartbroken?"

"Yes. I would not mention it, but you have unfortunately witnessed her distress. You see, my friend, I have not been completely honest with you," began Heyes. "We are not here in Denver for a visit; we are here because we had to flee our homeland. Asturias has recently undergone a revolution."

"Juan, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Thank God you escaped."

Heyes closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across his face. When they opened, they were filled with unshed tears. To hide his emotions, he gulped his flute of champagne and sighed, looking away towards the shadows of the candlelit room.

William was appalled. Good manners dictated that he didn't pry, but he was burning to know what had so deeply affected his friend. "Perhaps I should go." He started to rise again, but Heyes waved him back into his seat.

"No, please stay." Heyes' voice choked on his appeal. "Our parents were killed during the troubles."

"I'm so very sorry for your loss," mumbled a horrified William. He felt thrown by the direction the evening had taken and was paralyzed by the revelations, unsure of how to react. His training demanded that he commiserate, but he felt awkward doing so.

"Thank you. It has been…difficult for Isabella; for me. We mourn our parents, but it is our dear sister who breaks our hearts."

"Your sister? You have another sister?"

"Yes, an older sister, Catherine. She has been imprisoned by the rebels. They are holding her for ransom."

William paled. "Dear God!"

"Yes. So now you can understand my sweet Isabella's discomfort and forgive her abrupt departure. Come, we will speak no more of this. Let us enjoy our good fortunes." Heyes raised his voice, "Clyde, more champagne!"

"But, what will you do?" asked William, unable to contain his curiosity.

"I will do whatever is necessary to save my sister." Heyes' jaw tightened and it was obvious that the subject was closed.

A moment later, the door to the dining opened slowly and a composed Clementine glided back in on satin slippers. She curtsied to Heyes and William before slipping into her chair. Jed followed. He lifted the bottle from the champagne bucket and carefully refilled her glass before topping off the others.

"Clyde, I believe we are ready for dinner." Clem took a fortifying sip of her champagne. The bubbles tickled her nose and she had to stifle the absurd desire to giggle.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll see to it, ma'am." Jed bowed stiffly and left.

"Ah, dear Isabella, I am so glad you have decided to rejoin us," said Heyes.

"Of course. How could I resist such charming company?" Clementine turned a brilliant smile to William. "I do so want to hear all about life in Denver. I've had no opportunity to enjoy the city and am so looking forward to discovering its delights."

"I would consider it an honor if you would allow me to escort you through the city," offered William, who quickly added, "You, too, Juan. I did not mean to imply that your sister would not have a chaperone."

"Excellent idea! We will start tomorrow," said Heyes with unfeigned enthusiasm.

The foursome spent the next few days exploring the town. Denver was experiencing a boom both in building and population and the busy streets were congested with traffic, the sidewalks burgeoning with pedestrians. While still essentially a frontier town, the old canvas tent structures had been all but replaced with new, wooden buildings housing everything one could possibly desire.

The city's economy was based on trade, manufacturing, food processing, and servicing the state's growing agricultural and ranching communities. The advanced rumors of the railroad's advent had caused a spike in manufacturing and a recent influx of wealthy, well-heeled emigrants. Mansions were springing up and the gulf between wealth and poverty grew ever wider. Crime, too, grew and attracted a less desirable element. Three of whom were currently enjoying themselves being squired about the city with William.

Clem stopped in front of a store window and clapped her hands with delight. "Look Juan, it's a new millinery. All the way from Paris! I do so need a new hat. Please, dear brother, can we go in?"

"Forgive me if I am mistaken, but I seem to recall an excess of wardrobe we had a devil of a time shipping west." Heyes tugged gently at her arm, hoping to move her along.

William laughed at her machinations and threw his support to her. "Surely, Juan, as Prince of Asturias you cannot allow your lovely sister to parade in anything less than the latest fashions."

Heyes had to relent, but he wasn't happy about it. "Of course. Shall we go in?" Smiling sweetly at Clem, his eyes warned her not to go any further in her plan to empty his pockets. She giggled happily and led them inside. Hundreds of hats and an hour later, they left the shop with Clem sporting a deep green, silk velvet, fanchon-style hat atop her curls. She linked her arm through William's and twittering happily. The two youngsters walked on ahead. There was twittering going on behind them, but it was not happy.

"Twenty-five dollars! We got robbed!" Jed looked over his shoulder at the blonde-haired saleswoman bidding them adieu. "And that was a fake accent if ever I heard one." He was especially incensed as he'd had to slip five dollars to Heyes when he'd realized his partner was going to come up short.

Heyes laughed harshly. "Clem had us right where she wanted us."

"Well, we'd better get William where we want him fast or we ain't gonna have two cents to rub together."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," said Heyes, nodding towards Clem and William. The two had their heads together, nearly touching. William gave every sign of being totally enamored with Isabella. "Clem's got him wrapped around her little finger. I'd say it's time we moved in for the kill."

"Now you're talking," grinned Jed.

William glanced over his shoulder and saw Juan and Clyde deep in conversation. Turning back to the tasty morsel on his arm, he risked a small peck on Isabella's cheek. She blushed prettily and smiled up at him. "I'm having a wonderful time, William. You are the consummate guide." Accentuating the emphasis on consummate with a squeeze of his arm, she returned the kiss with one on his lips. His eyes widened at her brazenness and he searched her eyes, pleased with what he saw there. So, the princess was like every other woman. All polished manners and restrained dignity on the outside, but a whore on the inside. He chuckled happily and Clem smiled up at him unaware of his thoughts.

As the two older men joined them, William was the picture of decorum, but his mind was racing. This was going to be much more pleasurable than he'd expected. He'd already decided that Isabella was his ticket to a better life. He would court her and make her his wife. He was sure Juan would find him acceptable; after all, the Burdons had money to burn. It had been obvious over the past few days that Juan was suffering from financial straits, no doubt brought on by having to raise a ransom on their other sister. The minute William learned of their situation, he'd known that Isabella was attainable. He had patiently bided his time for a chance to offer his assistance and put the man in his debt.

He couldn't wait. Wouldn't his social climbing parents be shocked to see him marry into royalty? His father would be humiliated at being upstaged by his ne'er-do-well son. Best of all, he'd have entry into a world his parents could only dream of. They would fall all over themselves to stay in his good graces and, oh, how he looked forward to torturing them with his new standing.

William tightened his grip on Clem's arm possessively and she knew she had him where she wanted him. She'd landed her fish in record time. Take that, Jen!

OOOOOOOOO

Burdon glanced cagily around the docks. "I'm not sure I'd allow my daughters to come to a place like this, Abbott. There are some rum characters about."

Hale held up a hand to assist Genevieve down from the carriage. "My daughter is an English woman, Burdon. They are made of stern stiff. Hearts of oak are built on the playing fields and in the public schools. Our young people are bred to be leaders."

"Women leaders?" snorted Burdon.

"They look after the stately homes of England while the men are at war," Hale smiled. "It's a brave man who'll cross a Dowager Duchess. They run estates larger than most businesses."

"Who's this?" Burdon turned to frown at the figure striding towards them, the silver tip of his ebony cane clicking on the cobbled surface.

"Ah, that's Aldous Lehrman." Hale nodded in welcome to an expensively dressed Soapy Saunders. "He's a partner in the Lehrman Rosencrantz Commercial Union." Hale smiled at Burdon. "You didn't think that you were the only bank who's interested, do you?"

"But Jews?"

"They run a very efficient bank, Burdon. What else should I care about?" Hale proffered a handshake to his fellow confidence trickster. "Lehrman, let me introduce you to Ernest Burdon from Burdon Coutts. My daughter you already know."

Soapy doffed his hat to Genevieve. "Miss Abbott, may I say how especially beautiful you look today?"

"Always," giggled Genevieve. She looked towards the ship. "Ah, I see 'Leff…tenant' Smythe. How sweet." She slipped a hand through Soapy's arm. "Let's go and see if they are ready for our inspection."

"He's all set for the visit?" Soapy hissed.

"Just tell Smythe you're my father's doctor and we'll be fine. We're being shown around the boat to help with a geriatric episode. Father's ready to try to play up to that without giving anything away to Burdon."

"Gotcha," Soapy smiled. "You really are doing tremendously well."

"It's the research," Genevieve purred. "There is so much to learn. When you're pretending to be someone you're not it's the tiny things that give you away; a phrase, a pronunciation, even a favorite food. Do you know that the British call muffins crumpets and don't get me started on their puddings. They sound positively obscene not to mention unappetizing. Did you know they eat spotted dick?"

"I knew you were ready," Soapy chuckled. "It takes intelligence to do this and you demonstrate the kind of mind that'll give you a great future in our game. It is the details. Watch them and you will have a great future with us. Get the mark to thrust money at you and it's harder for them to go to the law."

"Yes, well your presence should help us with that," Genevieve smiled at the bearded sailor who stood with his hands behind his back at the top of the gang plank. "Leff…tenant Smythe. How lovely to see you again. "This is Mr. Lehrman, my father's medical consultant."

"Mister?" Smythe nodded a stiff greeting. "Not Doctor Lehrman?"

"Once we become professors they call us Mister, Lt. Smythe. It's a mark of respect in the medical profession."

"Really?" The Naval officer raised his brows. "Mr. Lehrman it is." He smiled at the two men following behind."

"Leff…tenant Smythe; may I introduce my father, Norman Abbott, and an associate of his, Ernest Burdon?" Genevieve turned back to the group. "Gentlemen, Leff..tenant Smythe is going to show us around his lovely boat."

"It's a ship, dear," Hale interjected. "It is too large to be a boat."

"Oh, of course," Genevieve blushed prettily. "I always get that wrong."

Smyth and Hale exchanged a knowing smile. "I understand you were a seaman, Mr. Abbott?"

"I certainly was. There's a long tradition of the family joining the Navy. Did Arrabelle tell you that we are related to Horatio Nelson?"

The young officer's eyes widened. "No, she certainly didn't."

"Yes, once removed on my mother's side. Old Cyclops we called him on account of the eye," Hale strolled ahead with the sailor, "and did you know about his tattoos?"

"Tattoos? No, tell me more…"

Genevieve turned back to Burdon and Soapy. "There you go. He's always like this when he gets together with another seaman."

"You didn't tell me he used to be a sailor?" Burdon frowned.

"Oh, yes. All the men in the family go into the services, and the youngest goes into the church. That's what happens in most English families."

"Hmm," a smile spread over Soapy's face. "A former Navy man? I much prefer to see someone running a shipping line who knows the business from the bottom up. Too many of the men in charge have never been out of the office. This proposition is looking better by the minute, Miss Abbott. I'm pretty sure that the Lehrman Rosencrantz Commercial Union can do business with your shipping line."

Burdon drew himself up to his full height. "And I'm sure that the Burdon Coutts Bank can offer more favorable rates."

"You think?" Soapy's eyes danced with mischief. "We deal primarily with commercial customers, so we know how to do the best for an expanding shipping line. The only personal accounts we run are held by businessmen we work with. I understand that your customer base is mainly personal accounts and a few ranchers."

Burdon glared at Soapy. "You understand wrong."

"Gentlemen!" Genevieve hooked arms with both men. "Enough of this. My father will make a decision based upon the bank which offers the most favorable terms. Now come on, let's look around the lovely boat."

OOOOOOOOO

Clementine gazed happily into the full-length mirror and twirled about letting her skirts flare up. The green velvet dress was beautifully tailored for her slender frame and the silk trim added a touch of elegance to her outfit, but something was missing. The pearl earrings were not quite right; they screamed young, untouched girl, not alluring woman. She pulled them off and turned to her dresser, opening the walnut jewelry box resting atop it. She tucked the pearls back into the small, satin sack that protected them and scanned the rest of her choices. Unfortunately, the pearls were the best she had; the rest of the jewels were mostly paste or lesser gems. That wouldn't do for tonight. Tonight, William was taking her to dinner and an opera at the Denver Theatre. Well, taking her and Heyes and Jed. She sighed. Heyes still insisted that she be chaperoned everywhere. He said that she was portraying a princess, so she had to behave like a princess. Pooh! As far as Clem was concerned, being royalty was not all it was cracked up to be although she had to admit she was having fun. The past few days had been a whirlwind of activities and William had been very attentive to her. Not that she really wanted to be alone with William-there was something about him that made her skin crawl and she was all too glad to have an excuse to play the perfect lady around him.

An idea drifted across her mind. Jen. Genevieve had a jewelry box bursting with goodies. As the oldest daughter, she had already received several fine pieces from their mother's estate on her eighteenth birthday. She let the lid of the box fall shut with a small bang and hurried across the hall to her sister's unoccupied room.

Jen kept her jewels in an embroidered case that had belonged to their mother. Clem knew right where it was; in the top drawer on the left. This wasn't the first time she'd snuck into her sister's room. She'd been doing it most of her life. Like many little sisters, it thrilled her to try on her sister's clothes and rummage through Jen's possessions. She already had everything that Clem wanted; beautiful things, Soapy's respect, and the attentions of two particularly dreamy young men. Without any remorse at all, she pulled Jen's box from its resting place and lifted the lid.

The first things she saw were her mother's prized emerald earrings. Jen must've worn them recently and had left them nestled in the top tray. Snatching them up, Clem held them to her ears. Perfect. They caught the light from the chandelier and shone brightly, illuminating her skin. Pleased with her selection, Clem hurried back to her room to finish her preparations.

When she swept down the curved staircase of the rented mansion a few hours later, she saw the admiration that leapt into William's eyes and she shivered, suddenly grateful for Heyes' presence. Burdon was gazing up at her with naked hunger.

"Ah, there you are, Isabella. I'm afraid that William and I were beginning to wonder if perhaps you had changed your mind about accompanying us," said Heyes teasingly.

"Nonsense, I wouldn't miss it for the world, but you do want me to look presentable, don't you?" she purred as she arrived at the foot of the stairs. William hurried forward to take her hand and escort her towards the open door and out to the lovely black carriage waiting at the curb. Jed stood at attendance next to the steps.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," said William, shocked to find that he meant every word. She was rich, royal, and easy on the eyes. What more could a man ask for? As they passed Jed, Heyes winked at his partner. It was going well. Their fish was more than hooked, he was almost landed.

Jed helped Clem up the steps to the carriage and stood back as William and then Heyes climbed in. Shutting the door firmly, he climbed up onto the seat and nodded to the driver who clucked to his team. As they moved out, Jed reached into his jacket and pulled out the small derringer concealed there. He checked the load and returned it to its hiding place. He sure wished he had his Colt, but he knew the tiny weapon packed a large punch. He'd been surprised when Heyes had handed him the gun. His partner usually discouraged him from going about armed, but he had a feeling that William disturbed Heyes as much as he did him. He still couldn't figure out why. The man was congenial and polite, but he sparked suspicion in Jed.

The evening was a roaring success. It was very apparent by the intermission of the opera—ironically, it was The Bartered Bride-that William was completely besotted with Clementine. He couldn't take his eyes off her and he scandalously insisted on clutching her hand through the entire performance. Clem couldn't get out of her seat quickly enough. She gently withdrew her hand from William's sweaty palm and wriggled her fingers trying to work some blood back into them.

"I do believe I will take a moment and powder my nose if you gentlemen will excuse me." She performed a small curtsy and disappeared around the heavy drapes concealing the rear of their box.

"Clyde, please fetch us some champagne," ordered Heyes. Jed nodded and left.

"William, I must ask that you show a bit more decorum with Isabella. My sister's virtue is of the utmost importance to me." Heyes said the words with a gentle humor, but a hard look of warning told William he was completely serious.

"Juan, please, I apologize. I was swept away with Isabella's beauty tonight. I don't know what came over me."

Heyes chuckled. "I understand, but I cannot permit my sister's sterling reputation to be compromised. Sadly, it is all we have left."

William smiled, but his heart started to pound with anticipation. He'd been thinking all evening about how he could approach Juan about formally courting his sister and here was his opening. He knew that as an American, he was less than she should aspire to, but he thought he might've come up with an incentive.

"Juan, I hope you realize that my intentions towards your dear sister are entirely honorable. In fact, I am hoping that you will give me permission to court your sister openly."

Heyes frowned and he sat back in his seat, scowling. William took that as a bad sign and quickly babbled on.

"I know that I'm not exactly the best match she could achieve, but, well, by Denver's standards I'm very desirable. Let me be open and honest with you, Juan. I will receive nearly one million dollars on my maturity next month and much, much more when my father passes. I already have a healthy allowance and I am willing to put all of it at your disposal."

Glittering brown eyes bore into William. "Careful, my friend, it sounds as though you are offering to purchase my sister's hand."

William jumped out of his chair and stood over Heyes. His cheeks were reddening, but more with anger than embarrassment. He would not be humiliated by this foreign monkey. "Nonsense, I am not suggesting anything of the sort! I am attempting to offer my help in rescuing your older sister, Catherine. You do know, don't you, that the rebels will not keep her forever. You must save her now, and I can help you do it. Let me be perfectly clear, I'm doing this for Isabella. She is so heartbroken about her sister that she cannot think about anything else. It is all she talks about and I know it would destroy her if Catherine was lost."

"And me as well," murmured Heyes. "Yes, you are correct and I apologize for my crass remark. Really, William, I don't know what came over me. You are a good man to extend us your help in friendship." Standing, he held out his hand. "Yes, I accept your offer and thank you for it."

"You're welcome," said William, grasping Heyes' hand with both of his own. "Now, about Isabella…"

Heyes waited a moment, letting William stand by anxiously, and then he cleared his throat. "Yes, I cannot accept your assistance as merely a friend, it would be too much, but as Isabella's suitor…well, that is another story, isn't it?"

When Clementine returned, she found Heyes and William seated side by side, grinning at each other and holding flutes of champagne. Jed drew the curtains closed as she came in and served her a glass on a silver tray as she was seated. "Why, thank you, Clyde."

"My dear Isabella, William has asked my permission to officially court you and I have given it. Darling, you know, I want you to be happy. Do you accept this proposal?" asked Heyes.

Clem let her eyes widened innocently and then she willed a blush onto her cheeks letting her gaze drop to her lap. "Why, yes, I am delighted."

"Then I propose a toast," Heyes held up his glass, "to our dear friend, William, and to my lovely sister, Isabella; may all your wishes be granted." He sipped his champagne and smiled. His wishes were certainly coming true. They were about to become fairly wealthy and he was almost out from under Clem's thumb.

OOOOOOOOO

Ernest Burdon was getting more and more frustrated. He was a creature of habit, often lunching at the same modest restaurant across the road from his offices. Every day he consumed whatever variety of pie was on the menu, accompanied by a selection of seasonal vegetables, and made his way back to the office at precisely twelve forty-five. That way he could catch people snatching an extra few minutes on their mid-day break. He wasn't about to pay goldbrickers. He was nobody's fool.

Today, like any other day, he made his way out of the bank and looked both ways before crossing the road to go over to Murphy's Chop House and sucked in a breath of indignation. Lehrman was across the road chatting to Norman Abbott. He watched his rival shake his new prospect enthusiastically by the hand before slapping the top of his arm manfully. Abbott nodded and gesticulated down the street towards the Bay area where the offices of the Lehrman Rosencrantz Commercial Union stood. Damn that man. He'd almost had that shipping line in the bag before that Jew had started sniffing around. This was the third time he'd seen them together, while Abbott had declined his invitation to dine with the Burdons twice now, claiming a prior engagement.

Lehrman turned and walked away while the Englishman paused and looked at the menu in the restaurant window. Burdon seized his chance. "Abbott!" The banker stepped down into the road, only to leap back from a wagon lumbering slowly past. As the vehicle cleared from his field of vision he saw the retreating back of his quarry. "Abbott!" he yelled again.

He strode purposefully across the road, shouting again. "Abbott!"

Burdon made it halfway across. "Abbott!"

A passing horseman glowered at him. "Hey! Doncha know it's against the law to scare the horses in the street? It's dangerous. This ain't the wild west."

Burdon ignored him and blundered over to the sidewalk, but Abbot was almost at the corner. "Abbott!" He dodged a child whirling towards him with a metal hoop on a stick. "Abbott!" He stopped dead at the two glaring matrons refusing to step aside for him before giving them a huff of irritation and darting around them. He raised an arm and bellowed at the back disappearing around the corner. "Abbott!"

He dropped his arm, noticing for the first time the staring eyes of the curious onlookers. Burdon turned puce and narrowed his aggression down to the only person he knew he could vent his spleen on; the hapless junior clerk who stood outside the restaurant chewing on a pie crust. "Shawcross! Look at you eating in the street. You're a disgrace. Have you no decorum?"

He pushed his way into Murphy's Chop House and harrumphed loudly at seeing his usual table was already occupied. As the Banker slid into an inferior seat near the kitchens he started to fume. That Englishman seemed to have been completely nuts about whatever Lehrman was offering. He couldn't even get an opportunity to undercut the opposition. How could he get Abbott's ear? All he needed was a chance.

He gave his order to the waitress and looked at the women at his usual table with complete disdain. What did the brainless periodicals his wife read call them? Ah, yes; ladies who lunch. Well, they should do it after hard-working men have eaten, it seemed like the world had completely lost the ability to prioritize. Then it hit him. That was his in; Effie seemed to have hit it off with that English piece and she was here in San Francisco with him. His wife had excellent social connections. Burdon sat back and smiled to himself. He'd finally found an area where Lehrman couldn't complete. It was about time Miss Abbott met some of the Nabobs of Nob Hill.


	3. Chapter 3

Genevieve smiled and laid her gloved hands genteelly in her lap. Her stiff back did not touch the back of the chair and her ankles were discretely tucked to the side. She had ensured that she complied with all the rules of etiquette as she could not afford to be caught out; she did not stare around the room, walk about while she waited, finger any ornaments or wear diamonds before dusk. Her borrowed pearls shone with a luster which marked them out as both genuine and expensive. All transgressions were likely to be leaped upon by the nouveau riche to mark out their distance from the hoi polloi in the absence of a blood line. Those climbing the social ladder were known to be more ruthless than those who occupied the top by dint of birth.

Effie Burdon smiled fondly at her old friend as she poured the tea into the delicate china. The milk came second; not only out of propriety, but also to prove that the china was of a sufficiently high quality to withstand the onslaught of very hot beverages. Sugar was politely declined so the silver tongs were replaced in the bowl and the drink was proffered by an over-dressed matron who resembled an old theatre in her burgundy velvet with gilt cording. "Mrs. Shand is a friend of Mrs. Stanford herself. Leland Stanford is President of the Central Pacific Railroad."

"Trains? How lovely," Genevieve sipped her tea. "I know nothing of trains, I'm afraid, but where would we be without them? Their effect on our lives has been quite miraculous don't you think? Of course, Grandma called them the work of the devil and swore that the human body could not withstand travelling above the speed of a horse. Ah, such memories. She became increasingly eccentric, but ever so much fun. She did love to tell us how scandalized her parents were by the introduction of round dances in her youth. Can you imagine being shocked by a waltz?"

"They had quite the same effect here. So many parochial country pastors thought it quite shocking." The hostess lifted a three-tiered cake stand and allowed Genevieve to take a delicate cucumber sandwich. "I quite agree about trains, Miss Abbott. Could you imagine us trudging across the prairies like savages to get here? I'm not the type to use a wagon; covered or uncovered."

"I should prefer an evening at the opera or an intimate gathering of friends," Genevieve declared. "Let's leave exploration to the men folk, shall we? We shall dedicate ourselves to civilizing the world through our charity work in education, public health, and poor relief." Genevieve allowed her dark ringlets at the back of her head to jiggle merrily. "Men think of the grand buildings, but they never think about the people who inhabit them, don't you think?"

Mrs. Shand raised her brows approvingly. "Mrs. Burdon told me that you were an engaging guest, Miss Abbott. I feel we are of like mind. What is your preferred charity?"

"Public health," the cut-glass English accent made the words sound clipped, "and education, particularly in girls. There are studies which show a positive correlation between the health of children and the education of girls."

"Girls?" Mrs. Shand gave her guest a quizzical look. "How much education?"

"Oh, I'm not referring to French, Latin or Greek. A plain, sensible curriculum which teaches them how to clean, run a house and the basics of diet."

Mrs. Shand's tense shoulders relaxed. "Of course, how to be good wives and mothers?"

Genevieve nodded. "Right alongside teaching the boys how to serve Queen and Country," she flushed, prettily."Oh, sorry; just country, in your case."

Both older women gave a tinkling laugh. "Oh, Miss Abbott, you are quite the visitor, aren't you? Don't worry, you haven't caused offense," Mrs. Shand asserted. "I was so afraid you might be one of those rich girls who are beautiful and idle; but terminally dim. You know the kind; the ones men call fools but they never mind?" She smiled archly. "I'd like to meet the man who took you for a fool. I detect a shrewd mind behind those big, brown eyes."

Genevieve's smile widened, readying herself to meet the challenge posed by this canny woman. "It takes a strong woman to support a Captain of Industry or the head of a large estate. They have so many responsibilities they need to be able to leave everything else in our hands. My mother was such a lady, and I strive to emulate her. We must notice every detail, including the behavior of the women in our company. A single gesture or look could be enough to tell us that a conspiracy is afoot. A mere man cannot be expected to be aware of such small things. That takes a woman. Am I right, Mrs. Shand?"

"A scone, Miss Abbott?" Mrs. Shand proffered the cake stand once more and observed her visitor coolly.

This woman was good; if she hadn't married a rich man she would have made a wonderful flim flammer. Genevieve suppressed a smile at the notion that many wives of rich men had the same set of skills in any case.

"Why, thank you," Genevieve placed the scone on her china side plate. "I must say that this is the most excellent cup of tea I have had since arriving here."

"Yes, my butler is English. He insists that the water must be poured over the leaves while it's still at a rolling boil."

"Absolutely right," Genevieve nodded, "that is the secret." She proffered her cup. "May I prevail upon you for another? It is simply the most delicious brew and I hadn't realized how much I missed the taste of home. You must compliment your staff for me, Mrs. Shand."

"So, what are your plans, Miss Abbot? What do you plan to do during your time in San Francisco?"

"There is shopping, of course. Baseball, I saw that in England. We played it at school, but has quite gone out of fashion at home. I find it invigorating. Then there is the music and lunching, and theatre…" Genevieve accepted her refreshed teacup. "It has been such fun to explore."

"On your own?" asked Mrs. Burdon.

"Oh, no. Father would never allow that, but Mr. Lehrman has arranged that his daughter and her circle entertain me. They are quite lovely young women and exceedingly diverting."

Effie Burdon pursed her lips. Her husband would be far from pleased at knowing that the Abbotts were making more and more links with a rival banker. "How lovely. Are you busy tomorrow evening? My husband and I would like to take you out to dinner."

"I would love to, Mrs. Burdon. I would have to check with Father, of course, but I believe that he may have a meeting with Mr. Lehrman at our hotel. Are you free on Friday? Mr. Lehrman won't do business on a Friday evening as he's a Hebrew, so of course his daughters and their friends are occupied too. I don't think we have any plans for Friday at all. "

Mrs. Burdon stirred her tea thoughtfully. Ernest would be most displeased with this turn of events, she had been tasked with arranging the meeting for tomorrow. "Where are you staying?"

"The Niantic Hotel. It is superbly run, the chef is French, the manager is Swiss and the housekeeper is German. The perfect blend of talents; it just wouldn't be the same in any other combination." Genevieve placed her cup on the doily on the rosewood table. "The food is of the most excellent standard. I can thoroughly recommend the restaurant."

Effie Burdon paused but loyal Mrs. Shand decided to step in and up the ante. "Why don't you dine here with us, Miss Abbott? Your father sounds like someone my husband should meet. There is a synchronicity between the railroad and a shipping line, don't you think?"

The polite smile betrayed the careful pause. Genevieve had to check with Soapy. This was getting far too near to the men known as the Big Four of San Francisco and that could be very risky for any confidence tricksters. There was a code of honor which dictated that you didn't sour the pitch for anyone else; you took what greedy men thrust at you, so their own stupidity was to blame. You did not mess with important people or the authorities. Mrs. Shand fixed Genevieve with expectant eyes, ready to support her old friend. "Please let me check with Father for any previous commitments, Mrs. Shand. Your offer sounds most gracious and enjoyable. I only wish I was in a position to invite you to my own home." Her hand went delicately to her chest. "I am touched at the hospitality I have been afforded, I truly am."

"So you will come?" Mrs. Shand pressed.

"May I confer with my father? I can assure you a response directly. I'm sure he will be very keen to meet you and your husband, but it would be rude of me to accept your invitation in case Father has made arrangements since I saw him at breakfast."

"Of course," the glance between Mrs. Shand and her friend told Genevieve that the Burdons were about to bite, but in any negotiation you had to know when to sit on your hands. "What a shame we are already committed until Friday, but I shall so look forward to seeing you again as soon as we are able."

OOOOOOOOOO

The bark of an old Colt Army pistol roused Hannibal Heyes from the novel he was enjoying. As he looked up, the first shot was quickly followed by five more. He sighed and put down his book carefully marking his place. He knew that his partner was just getting started and there would be no more peace and quiet for at least a half an hour. Jed loved to practice and he didn't get many chances since they'd moved into Soapy's place. The old con man had a healthy aversion to handguns and banned them in his presence.

He glanced at the grandfather's clock in the corner of Soapy's study. Nine o'clock; not like the last time when Jed had gotten an early start and raised the ire of every one of the mansion's neighbors on Capitol Hill as well as startling the vendors plying their trade on nearby Broadway and drawing a visit from the sheriff. Heyes stood and stretched before heading for the kitchen door. He knew he'd find his friend out by the carriage house.

Heyes whistled tunelessly as he neared the building set at the back of the lot so that Jed would hear him coming. Sure enough, he was waiting to shoot again until his partner appeared. Jed grinned like a kid. "Watch this!" He drew his gun in a blur of motion and efficiently shot six tin cans off the back wall of the property. Fortunately, there was nothing but open land behind the mansion.

"Not bad, huh?"With a flourish, the curly-haired youth holstered his pistol. "When William pays up, I'm thinkin' I'm gonna get me one of them fancy new Colts. Then I'll really start shootin' good."

"You do know Soapy's gonna tan your hide if he finds out you were shooting on his property again." Heyes overturned a water bucket lying by the door to the stable and sat on it.

Jed shrugged, "He's gonna do worse than that when he finds out what we've been up to. Way I figure it, we're gonna be on our own soon enough and we'll need my gun just like we did before."

Heyes remembered the day Jed had found that old gun. Found wasn't the right word. He'd taken the gun off the corpse of a dead confederate soldier they'd come across out in the middle of nowhere. They'd argued about it. Heyes had had a bad feeling the minute he'd seen that pistol in his young cousin's hand, but Jed's arguments had won out. Two youngsters on their own needed to defend themselves any way they could. Even Heyes had eventually learned to shoot, but it wasn't a compulsion for him like it was for Jed.

"Maybe you oughta do a little target shootin', too, Heyes. Been a long time since you practiced."

There wasn't anything Heyes could say to that argument. He stared up at the back window that overlooked the garden. Clementine was still asleep despite the noise. He was tired himself. The theater had let out late and then William had insisted on going for late night drinks. Clem had felt the effects of too many glasses of champagne and had complained of a headache upon retiring. For a young girl, she was enjoying flirting with alcohol a little too much; served her right. As far as he was concerned, she deserved to suffer a little. If it wasn't for her blackmail, they never would've agreed to this con and it was going to cost them a good life. With a devilish smile, he turned back to Jed. "Maybe you're right. Besides, Clem's not awake yet." He stood and walked over to where his best friend was re-loading.

With an answering grin, Jed handed him the Colt and went to the wall to set up more cans.

An hour later, a disheveled-looking Clementine appeared in the kitchen. She staggered to the stove and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot resting there. Cream and sugar were generously added before she sat down across the wooden table from her two friends who were playing cards. Heyes looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Don't look at me like that! Ugh, I feel terrible," she complained. A loud slurp of her coffee punctuated her statement.

"You did it to yourself," observed Heyes. "I warned you not to drink last night, but you wouldn't listen."

"How was I supposed to know that something that tastes as good as champagne could make you feel so sick?"

Jed reached over and pulled the mug from her hand. "That's not gonna help on an empty stomach."

She scowled at him. "Give me that back!" Clem dove for the mug, but Jed got up and poured it down the sink. "Who do you think you are?!" Her color was turning an ugly shade of puce and her face screwed up until it resembled one of those carnival mirrors.

"If William could see you now, he'd run for the hills," said Heyes.

"Oh, pooh! He dotes on me."

Jed returned to the table with a plate filled with fruit and sliced nut bread. He put it down in front of her, but she pointedly ignored it.

"That's because he thinks you're a princess, not a toad. We know better," teased Jed.

She pouted and crossed her arms.

"Clem, you're acting like a baby. Grow up, will you?" Heyes' temper was beginning to flare. "You're sixteen years old, not five!"

Her lower lip trembled, but her hand reached out and snatched a piece of apple. She shoved it into her mouth. Through a mouthful of fruit, she said, "Jed's only eighteen. Why do you treat me like a child, but not him?"

"Because he doesn't behave like one; at least not very often."

"Hey!" Blue eyes glared at brown ones. "And I'll be nineteen next month," he added in his defense.

"Look, you want Soapy to start treating you like Jen; you'll have to start acting like her. She doesn't throw a tantrum if she doesn't get what she wants and she sure as hell doesn't blackmail her friends!" stormed Heyes, standing up, his chair scraping rudely on the floor.

Her eyes filled with tears that overflowed down her cheeks."Why are you both being so mean to me?"Her puffy face and bloodshot eyes failed to invoke any sympathy.

The two young men looked at each other amazed at her obtuseness and then they swung their eyes to her.

"You ain't ever gonna learn, are you?" asked Jed.

"Learn what?"

"When this game is over, Jed and I are leaving Denver. Alone!"Heyes started for the back door and Jed stood up to follow. They left her sitting at the table, shocked by their words.

The two young men crossed the yard and let themselves out through the gate by the carriage house.

"Heyes, maybe we should back out of this. I mean what's the worst that could happen? If Clem makes good on her threat Soapy will throw us out on our ears, but we're gonna have to leave Denver either way. If we go through with this, what's she gonna trick us into doin' next time?" Heyes closed the gate and stepped into the alley. He glanced back at the house and then marched up the alley, his irritation fueling him. Jed had to hurry to match strides with his agitated friend.

"We can't back out now, Jed. We haven't got a pot to piss in, you know that. William's making arrangements for the loan. If we can hornswoggle him, we can live well until we get on our feet. Maybe even fund our next con."

"I guess so, I just don't like it. There's somethin' about him that don't set well with me."

"Like what?" Heyes stopped and looked at his partner. He wasn't challenging Jed, he genuinely wanted to know. William bothered him, too, and he couldn't figure out why. The young man seemed all right, but Heyes couldn't warm up to him.

"Like, he kept pushin' those drinks on both of you last night. He just didn't realize you were pourin' yours into that bushy potted fern next to the table."

"Yeah, I guess I'd better teach Clem that trick," Heyes chuckled, his anger leaching away. What could he have expected from Clem? She was just a kid and a willful one at that.

"What was he talkin' to you about when she went to powder her nose? I couldn't hear from where I was standin'." Jed had been left observing the threesome through the glass window in the front of the restaurant that separated the genteel from their waiting servants outside.

"We were discussing the terms of the loan. He wants interest and a written guarantee that he'll be paid when 'Catherine' is released. It seems fair enough to me, but I told him that I couldn't risk going after the royal treasury until she was safely in America so he'd have to wait awhile to be reimbursed."

"He looked kinda angry about it."

"Not about that. He was upset that I wouldn't agree to let him propose to Clem."

"Propose? She's just a kid and they hardly know each other. It ain't decent!" Jed could feel his own temper rising. He was beginning to understand his misgivings about William. The man was every bit as slippery as Heyes was.

"I know and that's what I told him, but he's insisting that he won't give me the money until they're engaged. He's hell bent on putting a ring on her finger which is ultimately right where I want him. He really does think he can buy her." Heyes had been more than annoyed by William's terms. He couldn't help wondering why Burdon was in such a hurry. "I did finally haveto agree to allow him to propose."

"You agreed?! Why the heck did you do that?"

"Jed, what does it matter if they get engaged? Clem's gonna disappear on him anyway."

"Does Clem know he's proposing?"

"Not yet. I figured it would be more authentic if he surprised her. He's promised to turn the cash over to me after she accepts."

Jed frowned his disapproval. "I'm just glad we're conning him and none of this is for real."

OOOOOOOOOO

Clem was still sitting at the kitchen, another cup of highly embellished coffee gripped in her hands. Her tears had dried almost immediately after the boys had left. They were always her best defense against the boys' annoyance with her and she'd learn a long time ago how to turn them on and off like a water pump.

She couldn't blame them for being angry with her. Heyes was right, she had blackmailed them. At the time, it had seemed like a good plan, but now she was beginning to realize that she hadn't fully thought things through. When this whole mess was over, both she and the boys would have to leave Denver; maybe forever, but she'd always thought they'd be going together. Heyes' words had shaken her.

She knew she could never risk seeing William again. She'd envisioned a dramatic departure from Denver on the arms of two handsome men, all of them wealthy and free to roam the world. She'd never imagined exile on her own. Would her sister and father come with her if she begged them to? No, it wouldn't be fair of her to ask. Jen had a bright future under Soapy's tutelage and her father was earning respect for the first time in his checkered career. She couldn't ask them to leave it all behind because she'd been selfish and willful. What had she been thinking?

Tears began to fall unheeded. Clem finally understood that she'd backed the three of them into a corner they couldn't escape from. Even if they quit the con now, they'd still have to leave. William knew them as Juan, Isabella, and Clyde. If he learned who they really were, he'd set the law on them. How had she been so stupid?

She didn't want to leave her family behind. She loved them. She'd been so jealous of Jen for so long, she'd all but forgotten how much she loved her. Genevieve had only been gone a week, but she already missed her. No one understood her quite like her sister did.

It was just that she'd so wanted someone to see her for the woman she was becoming. Well, William did; that was as plain as the nose on her face. The only problem was she didn't want his attentions. He repelled her, but she was in too deep. She'd set this in motion and she had to see it through. She wished her big sister was here to talk to. Jen would tease her, but she would help her. She always did.

OOOOOOOOOO

Soapy swirled the after-dinner brandy in the balloon-shaped glass and raised knowing eyes to his partner-in-crime. "Burdon's here, just as Jen predicted. He's skulking behind that huge fern by door."

Hale held up his own liqueur, ostensibly to check the clarity of the drink but in reality to observe the lanky man lurking in the foliage with shoulders hunched to mask his height. "Yes, I got him. Looks like a huge locust in those fronds. He'd better hope they don't spray for pests, huh?"

"He's seen us alright," Soapy reached into his breast pocket and pulled out folded papers. "Time to put on a show."

"Go for it, Soapy. At least he didn't surprise us. Resourceful marks can be a problem."

The grizzled head of the experienced flim flammer nodded. "He thinks in straight lines, not in corkscrews. Maybe we'll make him a better businessman?"

Hale looked down at the papers before pointing to a clause as though it were the subject under discussion. "Better? I doubt that. He'll just be more guarded."

Soapy nodded and turned the page, holding it up as though explaining the paragraph. "How did he get where his is if he doesn't know that words mean nothing? We only cheat people who have more money than sense." Soapy shrugged. "Men like Burdon don't listen, they tell and he's not used to being challenged. He's going to tell you what to do because it's the only tool he's got and the best games use their own skills against them. That's why I needed a man like you. He has to think he can intimidate you but he also has to be impressed enough with your contacts and abilities to be drawn to you." Soapy nodded, appreciatively. "It's a delicate balance, strong, but not too forceful. That makes the perfect flim flam; he has to feel like he's driving the thing, like he's in control. You're doing a real good job with this."

"Yes," Hale smiled proudly. "Jen has really blossomed. She's grown into a beautiful woman and she's every bit as smart as her mother. In a few years Clem will be old enough to join us too."

"Yes, she's a bit too impulsive still," Soapy agreed. "She's not quite ready, although some of the cruder gangs would have been using her for years. I like to think I run a slicker outfit. Two beautiful daughters, huh? You'd best make the most of it before somebody snatches them up and marries them out from under you."

"Yeah, I've been keeping an eye on Heyes and Curry."

"Really?" Soapy's wrinkled brow furrowed even further. "They don't strike me as marriage material just yet."

"I know," Hale agreed. "That's why I'm keeping an eye on them."

"Well, show time. Let's get on with it." Soapy waved to the waiter and bellowed theatrically. "Can I have a pen and some ink please?"

That did it; Burdon burst from the vegetation and headed straight for them, failing to notice the frond caught on his cuff. "I thought that was you. I was just passing the dining room after a meeting and I thought I saw my old friend, Abbott. How are you and how's that lovely daughter of yours?"

"A meeting?" Soapy queried, eyeing the leaves hanging from the mark's cuff. "Monkey business perhaps?"

Burdon reddened. "I caught it in that fern over there," he dragged the debris away, dislodging a cuff link in the process. He cursed under his breath and stooped to snatch it up as the waiter approached with an inkwell and pen and placed it on the table. "Contracts at the dinner table?" He stood and scowled at 'Lehrman.' "You have no class. You wouldn't catch me ambushing my clients like that."

Soapy glanced down at the vegetation still strewn on the floor. "No, you prefer the undergrowth."

"I have not been ambushed, I can assure you," Hale declared. "We've been hashing out a deal for the last fortnight through telegrams." Hale smiled triumphantly at Soapy at his insertion of an English term into the conversation but this was misinterpreted by Burdon as a dismissal.

"I came all the way out here from Denver for you and he wins you over in a couple of telegrams?" Burdon spluttered. "My time is important, you know."

Hale frowned. "You told me you had business in your San Francisco office. Isn't that the case?"

"Yes, well…" Burdon groped around for a face-saving explanation, "I did, but I brought it forward to help you. I didn't want you to feel obligated, that's all."

"Really? That is exceedingly kind of you, I must say," Hale pinned Soapy with a hard look. "Would you travel to Denver for my business?"

"Nope," grinned Soapy, "I'm far too busy. I could maybe send a subordinate, but Burdon Coutts is a much smaller concern."

"You see how he values your business?" Burdon scowled. "You get personal attention at my bank."

"You get an overdraft of from ten thousand dollars with the Lehrman Rosencrantz Commercial Union," Soapy shot back.

"He can have an over draft of twelve thousand at Burdon Coutts."

"Can I?" Hale queried hopefully. "That'd go a long way to helping finance business here while the American branch was established."

Soapy's jaw firmed. "Twelve thousand."

Burdon's eyebrows rose. "Fourteen thousand."

"Fifteen," Soapy countered.

"Seventeen," Burdon countered.

The veteran conman paused sighing heavily. Could he push the mark any further without losing him? "Eighteen, my final offer."

A heavy hand clattered down on the table before the banker leaned on the table and gave Hale a long hard stare. "An overdraft facility of twenty thousand dollars and the use of the boardroom in my offices for meetings until you find suitable premises."All eyes turned to the man with the grizzled, but neatly trimmed, hair."Can you match that?" Burdon demanded

Soapy shook his head. "Sorry; but I have more partners to satisfy that our friend here, and I certainly cannot promise the use of our offices." He quietly folded the document he had been using as a prop and replaced it in his breast pocket. "I'm out."

Hale stood,beaming widelyat his new found business partner. "What a wonderful offer. There's no question that Burdon Coutts is going to be the bank of the White Rose shipping line as it expands into The U.S.A. Do you have the contracts?"

"I'll have them drawn up first thing in the morning.I'm not crass enough to bring such things to a dinner appointment. I understand that your daughter has arranged that we all dine with the Shands tomorrow." Burdon looked down his nose at a dejected-looking Soapy and continued without a trace of irony. "I'll bring the paperwork with me to get it signed and finalized before we dine."

"If he doesn't follow through you know where I am," twinkled Soapy.

"My word is my bond, Lehrman," growled the banker before shaking Hale firmly by the hand. "Until tomorrow? I will arrange a carriage for us all."

The two confidence tricksters stood side by side and watched the tall man's departing back. "You pushed that a bit higher than I thought we'd agreed," muttered Hale.

"Yeah, but I saw the greed hanging out of him and knew we could get more." Soapy turned to look at his partner in crime. "You can't go to dinner tomorrow night. None of us can be seen anywhere near the big four or their friends; the rest of the gangs will drive us into the dust for ruining the pitch for everyone. Find an excuse; some kind of emergency and get on a train back to Denver first thing in the morning."

"But I'm supposed to sign the contract tomorrow."

"Have you ever been fishing, Hale?" The wrinkled face furrowed into a devilishly innocent smile. "My pa used to tell me that to get the fish to bite harder you've sometimes got to tease him a bit, you have to make him think it's all about to slip away to make him really commit and swallow hook, line and sinker. Your skipping out is going to panic him, especially if I break the news and plan a trip to Denver. You and Jen need to send your apologies to the Shands and head off. He'll be so keen to push money at you he'll never see this coming."

OOOOOOOOOO

**Seven Days Later**

Soapy strolled across the lobby of the Tremont hotel, turning with a smile of recognition towards the gangly man who had just walked through the door. "Burdon? If you're here to see the Abbotts, they've gone."

"Gone!?" Burdon scowled. "What are you doing here?"

"When I heard that he had been called back to Denver on urgent business without getting the chance to sign up I thought I still had a chance." Soapy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "This is going to grow you know. It's a good proposition as it is, but this shipping line is already well-established in England and it's very profitable. Tie that up with him planning a series of links with the railroads and Abbott's got the start of a business transporting raw materials coast to coast as well as internationally."

"What was so damn important that he skipped out on me?" Burdon demanded.

"Didn't he tell you?" Soapy enquired, innocently. "Palmer is inaugurating the narrow gauge railway out of Denver to Colorado Springs and is offering preferential rates in his network to any businessman who makes him an advance. Abbott was late to the party because he's a foreigner and he was out of town, but he needed to get the best rates to compete in the transportation market. You know the kind of deal, you help me build the thing and I'll give you the best deal for using it." A grin twitched at Soapy's lips. "He had to move fast, and I like a man who knows how to grab an opportunity with both hands. As soon as I heard about that I knew he'd be lower in funds than he'd planned. I'm authorized to make him an advance as well as an overdraft facility."

"How much?"

"None of your business," Soapy swung his cane onto his nonchalantly onto his shoulder and sauntered over to the door. "You look after your business and I'll look after mine."

OOOOOOOOOO

Heads turned as William piloted his new Studebaker carriage through the crowded streets of downtown Denver. He'd purchased it yesterday when the funds for the loan had finally been placed in his account. It had taken some creative bookwork on his part to divert the money from his father's account, but luckily for him, he'd had plenty of practice siphoning small amounts from his parents over the past few years and it hadn't been any harder to bury the larger amount amongst the bank's steep expenses. After all, he had a lifestyle to maintain and appearances were important. His father would never know, just like Juan would never know that he'd skimmed some of the money off the top so that he could propose to Isabella in style.

The perfectly matched team of grays trotted gaily, their harnesses gleaming in the sunlight, and pedestrians were quick to jump out of his way. Burdon was almost as proud of his horseflesh as he was of the young woman who sat beside him. His intended turned shining eyes up to him and clapped her hands happily.

"Oh, William, they are absolutely beautiful!" Clem exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm.

He reached over and stroked her leg proprietorially. "They pale in comparison to you, my darling Isabella."

It was all Clem could do not to snort at being likened to a pair of horses. She hid her distaste at his touch and pretended to be absorbed by the scenery. Really, what was it about William that disturbed her so much? He was reasonably well-behaved and polite, although clumsy in his wooing. At least it would soon be over and she'd never have to see him again. She felt the slightest twinge of guilt at duping the young man so mercilessly, but absolved herself by remembering how she would upstage Jen with her first successful con.

Glancing over her shoulder at her two friends riding astride behind the carriage, she noted their matching scowls and she winked saucily at them, hoping that they were feeling jealous. It was about time they took more than a brotherly interest in her. Shifting in her seat again, she leaned ever so slightly into William's shoulder. He grinned down at her and whipped up the horses to a faster pace. Any further discussion was snatched away by the wind.

When they reached the South Platte River, William slowed the team to a walk and pulled into a shady cottonwood grove. The sun sparkled on the rippling, gurgling water and a slight breeze bowed the feathery stalks of dried grasses that lined the river bank. He put on the brake and jumped down from the Studebaker, hurrying around to the passenger's side so that he could have the pleasure of helping Isabella down before her dreadful bore of a brother could dismount. She smiled encouragingly at him, placing her tiny hands on his shoulders. His hands nearly encompassed her waist as he lifted her down. Deliberately, he wobbled slightly causing her to alight snugly wrapped in his arms.

Clem flushed at the feel of William's fleshy chest and unconsciously pushed him away. She'd never had a man hold her so closely before and she hated that he was the first. He laughed at her confusion and pulled her back to him whispering in her ear, "Soon nothing will come between us." Her eyes widened at his words and she glanced over her shoulder at Heyes and Jed, wishing they weren't quite so far away.

William's father had unexpectedly arrived back in Denver ahead of schedule. He knew he had to step up his game if he was going to close this deal without his pater's knowledge and he savored the thought of shocking his parents by announcing his engagement to the general public before they had a clue of what a coup he'd managed to pull off. When his mother had stated her intention of attending Palmer's Ball tonight, William knew he had the perfect forum to declare to the world that he had bagged a princess.

He watched the rosy glow of embarrassment flood Isabella's face as a result of his comments and it gave him a thrill. Despite her flirtations, it was obvious she was virginal; a condition that William would remedy soon and with great pleasure. She'd learn to serve her master in every respect. Isabella might be a princess, but he was about to become her king and he relished the thought of making her subservient to him.

Clem dropped her eyes, unable to smile at William's crude remark and when she raised them again, she was relieved to find that Heyes and the Kid had arrived by her side. "Let's have our picnic over there by that old stump. We can use it as a table," she babbled. "Clyde, please bring over the basket." Covering her discomfort with the preparations, she set about unpacking the food.

After the meal, William stood up and offered her his hand. With a curt nod to Heyes, he looped Clem's arm through his and ambled away along the riverbank. When he judged that they were definitely out of earshot and nearly out of sight, he pulled Clem to him again and nuzzled her neck. "Ah, Isabella, you drive me insane!"

"William, you mustn't!" cried Clem, causing Burdon to stop his attentions and glance back to see if her brother had heard. There was a dangerous edge to Juan that he had no intention of experiencing.

Heyes and Jed were sitting in the grass, skipping stones into the water, pretending to ignore the young couple downstream from them, but, in reality, keeping a close watch over their young friend. Hearing Clem's raised voice; they both rose to their feet and began to stroll nonchalantly towards the couple.

"He's bein' damned familiar with her, Heyes, and I don't like it," growled Jed.

"Me either, but what can happen? He sees us coming." Heyes kept his eyes on the two people standing next to the river. For whatever reason, he didn't trust William and he was looking forward to completing the swindle even if it meant leaving Soapy and Denver behind.

Seeing that he was about to be interrupted, William quickly dropped to one knee clutching Clem's hands tightly. "Isabella, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Heyes and Jed stopped in their tracks when they saw him kneel before her. "He's proposing!" said Jed starting towards Clem and William.

Heyes caught his arm. This was the culmination of all their efforts. "Don't blow it!" said Heyes. "We're in the home stretch. We'll get the money and leave in the morning on the first northbound train to Cheyenne. From there, we can go anywhere."

Jed frowned but he stopped trying to pull away from his partner. Instead, his icy blue eyes were riveted on the tableau before him.

"Your wife? William, I hardly know you." Clem was caught by surprise.

"You know that I'm completely crazy for you. What more do you need?"

"But…I can't marry. Not while Catherine is imprisoned," Clem protested weakly. The plan had been to get him to loan them the money to free her sister, but the con called for a long drawn-out scenario where problems arose and more money would be required, not this speedy conclusion. She felt confused and disarmed. He was crushing her hands and it hurt her. She tried to pull away.

He tightened his grip as he felt her struggling. William wasn't about to let his golden goose get away so easily. This wasn't going the way he had envisioned it would. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Juan and Clyde drawing closer again. The added pressure made his temper flare and he hissed, "Come now, don't pretend with me. I've agreed to loan Juan the money to free her if you agree to marry me. It's a good deal for everyone."

Clem stiffened. Heyes had known about the proposal and he hadn't told her! She was suddenly furious with both him and William and she yanked her hands from her suitor's. Turning away from him, she glared at Heyes, who smiled blandly back at her and nodded his head encouragingly. He'd known, damn him, he'd known William was going to propose and he hadn't told her! Caught between her friends and her mark, she struggled to recoverher composure. Why was she upset? This was it. This was what she had set in motion and she would see it through. She laughed gaily as she spun back to him and placed her hands on his chest. "Yes, yes, it is a good deal as you say. I will marry you, William!"

With a bellow of laughter, William wrapped his arms around her and swung her around. Clem's eyes drilled into Heyes' and he couldn't miss the fury in them. Once she was on the ground again, she ran over to her 'brother' and threw her arms around his neck, pretending to be sharing her good news.

"You pig! How could you do that to me?" Clem yanked cruelly at his longish hair.

"Ow, stop that! You got what you wanted, didn't you?" snarled Heyes. "Now let's close the deal." He pushed her away none too gently and hurried forward to seize William's hand. "Welcome to the family. I am so delighted my sister has accepted your handsome proposal."

"Thank you, Juan, and I haven't forgotten our little agreement." William reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a thick envelope, passing it to Juan surreptitiously. "Please make sure Catherine is back in time for the wedding."

"I will, my friend, I will," grinned Heyes, quickly concealing the money in his own jacket. "Come let's celebrate. I brought champagne!" He started back towards where his horse was tied.

Clyde was busy congratulating William and no one heard Clem mutter angrily, "I just bet you did."

OOOOOOOOOO

A dull, loose pelt slid over the protruding bones of a straggly mutt as it slunk towards the remains of something putrefying in the gutter. Canine lips curled into a growl to ward off the competition from a crow pecking at the furry mess of a critter too slow to get out of the way of a cartwheel, but the grizzly competition was cut short by the rattle of a carriage drawing up at the warehouse. Soapy disembarked, slamming the door behind him and watched the mark's Hansom cab clatter to a halt behind him. Yup, Burdon was keen alright.

The huge wooden door slid back, the warehouseman grabbing the wall-like door with both hands to slide it back on its runners to reveal the very English and very proper Abbotts apparently cooing over the contents of a wooden crate.

Soapy glanced over his shoulder at Burdon bustling up behind him and cringed at the banker's over-enthusiastic bellow. "Abbott! I was worried about you. I hope it wasn't family business that brought you back to Denver so quickly?"

Hale feigned surprise and stepped to greet the new arrivals with a proffered hand. "No, I'm so sorry about that, but I was going to lose a big chance to grow my business if I didn't move quickly. I hope you understand."

Burdon nodded, moving his body around to step between his target and the Jewish banker who hovered about like a bluebottle.

"Lehrman!" Hale beamed, "I didn't expect to see you all the way out here."

"I will venture into the wilds if the client merits such an intervention. You get personal attention at the Lehrman Rosencrantz Commercial Union."

"The wilds?" Burdon harrumphed in ripe indignation. "This is Denver, not some dusty cowtown!"

"Were you invited here?" Soapy demanded.

Hale raised his hands to cut off Burdon's retort. "Gentlemen, gentlemen! You are both welcome."

Burdon shook Hale's hand. "I need to talk to you, Abbott."

"Talk's cheap," snorted Soapy. "The supply exceeds demand."

"I brought that contract with me, Abbot," Burdon fished in his breast pocket. "You didn't have time to sign it in San Francisco."

"Gees," huffed Soapy, "talk about delicacy. Does your train of thought have a caboose attached?" He turned back to Hale. "So this is the warehouse you're renting?"

"I certainly am. The first of many," Hale cast an expansive hand around at the stacked crates and barrels. "It's all coming together. My shipping line is bringing in raw materials from the four corners of the earth and I also have a growing logistical ability to ship cargo to meet the growing demand in out here in the West." He lifted a crowbar and pried the lid off the nearest box. He reached in and pulled out a shining ingot.

"Gold?" gasped Burdon.

Hale shook his head. "Copper. Do you really think I'd be mad enough to leave crates of gold in an unbounded warehouse? All your heavy industry needs copper. It goes into everything from your brass beds, machinery and even into the currency you use to pay for it. It's everywhere and the West needs tons of it if it's to build itself up as a power to be reckoned with," his eyes gleamed, "and I am not only able to bring it in quantity, I now have the contracts in place to take it anywhere it needs to go at the very best rates."

Burdon flicked a glance at his competitor, drinking in his avaricious glance. He had underestimated this mild-mannered Englishman, he had a solid brain for business and this was a definite coup for the bank. It was time to talk some hard figures. "Abbott, I understand that you were about to sign up in San Francisco. I am prepared to up that figure. I will offer you an overdraft of twenty five thousand dollars along with the use of the bank's offices until you get premises of your own. All you have to do is sign now."

Hale's eyes widened. "That's a very generous offer. Can you do better than that Lehrman?"

"I am authorized to offer you the same, Abbott," Soapy tapped the boss of his cane pensively against his chin. "How about a preferential rate of six? That's lower than the national average right now."

"Five and three quarters," Burdon countered.

"Five and a half," Soapy clicked his stick on the wooden floor decisively, "and that's my final offer."

"Five percent, an overdraft facility of twenty five thousand and the use of our offices until you get your own premises. You will also get my personal attention to your account at all times. What do you say?"

"Too rich for my blood," Soapy shook his head. "I'm not authorized to offer anything below five and a half percent. He's all yours Burdon." He extended a hand to his fellow flim flammer. "I'm sorry we couldn't do business on this occasion, Abbott. Let me know if this doesn't work out for any reason and we can talk."

"Do you have the paperwork to get this signed up?" Hale nodded towards Burdon's bulging breast pocket. "You've clearly brought it with you. I am a busy man."

"I need to amend it; it's filled in with the wrong rate. How about I call by your hotel this evening?"

"Papa?" Genevieve stepped forward to break her silence, "I hope you haven't forgotten that we are going to the Grand Inauguration Ball tonight. You know, for the railway charter? All the investors are going."

Hale nodded, smiling at his daughter's foresight to buy a couple of the public tickets to corroborate their story. "Ah, yes. Palmer's Railway Inauguration."

Burdon's thin lips spread into a smile. Hadn't his wife has been prattling about the need for him to be back in time to attend that self-same shindig? For her it had been social climbing as the biggest event in the Denver Calendar, but it now seemed to be very fortuitous indeed. "The Inauguration Ball? But we're going too. Why don't I bring the contract there for you to get it signed?"

"It's a deal. Bring the contract tonight and we'll get it signed up."

Burdon's unsavory smile broadened as his gaze slid towards the woman he knew as Arrabelle Abbott, English socialite and heiress in a family without a son to inherit the business. "We will get that done immediately and get it out of the way. We want the young people to enjoy the festivities, don't we? My son, William, will also be attending, Miss Abbott. I really would like him to meet you."

OOOOOOOOOO


End file.
